satisfaction. This moment, it then seemed to me, might be a good time to speak to him. I had been wanting to speak to him for several days. I had been
awaiting only a judicious opportunity, one in which the topic might seem to be broached naturally, in such a way as to avoid arousing his curiosity or
suspicion. He drew the strings on the wallet, closing it. Yes, this seemed like an excellent time to take action. I would arrange the whole business in
such a way that it would seem quite natural. It would be easy. Yes, I thought, I could manage this quite nicely.

"I wish that I had recorded the game," I said.
"I can reiterate the moves for you, if you wish," he said.
"From memory?" I asked.
"Of course," he said. "It is not difficult."
I drew forth from my wallet some papers and a marking stick. Among some of these papers, which I would apparently use as a backing surface for the
sheet on which I intended to record the moves, were the papers I had taken, long ago, from the Lady Yanina near the fair of En'Kara.

"Ah," said the player. "I see."
"What?" I asked.
"Am I not, now, supposed to say, 'What have you there?' or is that to come later?"
"I do not understand," I said.
"We must have played a hundred games," he said. "Never before have you seemed interested in recording one. Now you seem interested. Why, I
wonder. Now you draw forth papers from your wallet. Some of these are papers obviously covered with the notation of Kaissa. Am I not to express
curiosity? And are you not then, almost inadvertently, to ask me some question, or questions, in which you are interested?"

"Perhaps," I said, hesitantly.
"Are you really interested in the game?" he asked.
"I am interested in it, as a matter of fact," I said, "but, to be

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sure, as you seem to have detected, it is possible I have an ulterior motive in mind."

"The moves of the game were as follows," he said. He then repeated them for me, even, occasionally, adding in some useful annotational remarks.
There were forty-three moves in the game.
"Thank you," I said.
"You're welcome," he said. "Now what are those other papers?"
I handed them to him.
He looked at them, briefly, flipping through them. They appeared to be covered with the notation of Kaissa, as though various games, or fragments of
games had been recorded on them.
"Do you have some question, some specific questions, about these?" he asked.
"I am wondering about them," I said.
"I thought you were giving me these in connection with some specific question having to do with Kaissa," he said, "perhaps with respect to the analysis
of a position or a suggested variation on a lesser-known opening. I thought perhaps they might be Kaissa puzzles, in which a forced capture of Home
Stone in some specified number of moves must be detected."
I said nothing. I was eager to see what he would say.
"What do you make of them?" he asked.
"I am interested in your opinion," I said.
"I see," he said.
"Are they games," I asked. "Parts of games?"
"They might appear to be so," he said, "if not looked at closely."
"yes," I said.
"Doubtless you have reconstructed the positions, or some of them," he said.
"Yes," I admitted.
"And what do you think?" he asked.
"I think," I said, "that it is highly unlikely that they are games, or parts of games."
"I agree," he said. "They do not seem to be games, or parts of games. Indeed, it seems unlikely that that is even what they are supposed to be. Not
only would the general level of play be inferior but much of it is outright gibberish."
"I see," I said.
"I am sorry," he said. "I can be of no help to you."
"That is all right," I said.
"Where did you get them?" he asked.

page 243

"I came on them," I said.
"I see," he said.
"You do not know what they are, then?" I said.
"What they are," he said, "seems to be clear."
"What do you think they are?" I asked.
"Kaissa ciphers," he said.
"What are Kaissa ciphers?" I asked. I did not doubt that the papers contained enciphered messages. That conjecture seemed obvious, if not inevitable,
given the importance attached to them by the Lady Yanina, she of Brundisium, and her colleague, Flaminius, perhaps also of Brundisium. I had hoped, of
course, that the player might be able to help me with this sort of thing, that he, ideally, might be familiar with the ciphers, or their keys.

"There are many varieties of Kaissa ciphers," he said. "They are often used by the caste of players for the transmission of private messages, by they
may, of course, be used by anyone. Originally they were probably invented by the caste of players. They are often extremely difficult to decipher
because of the use of multiples and nulls, and the multiplicity of boards."
"What is the multiplicity of boards," I asked.
"Do you see these numbers?" he asked.
He indicated small numbers in the left margins of several of the papers. These tiny numbers, in effect, seemed to divide the moves into divisions. In
originally looking at the papers I had interpreted them simply as a device for identifying or listing the games or game fragments.
"Yes," I said.
"Those presumably indicate the 'boards'," he said. "Begin for example, with a Kaissa board, with its one hundred squares, arranged in ten ranks and ten
files. Are you literate?"
"Yes," I said. Torm, my old friend, the Scribe, might have expressed skepticism at the unqualified promptness and boldness of my asseveration, as I had
always remained somewhat imperfect in writing the alternate lines of Gorean script, which are written from the right to the left, but, clearly, I could both
read and, though admittedly with some difficulty, write Gorean. Gorean is written, as it is said, as the ox plows. The first line is written left to right, the
second, right to left, the third, left to right again, and so on. I had once been informed by my friend, Torm, that the whole business was quite simple, the
alternate lines, in his opinion, at least, also being written forward, "only in the other direction." "Begin then, on the first square," said the player, "with
the first letter of a word, or of a sentence, or even of a set of letters

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randomly selected. Proceed then as in normal writing, utilizing all available squares. when you come to the end of the initial entry, list all unused letters
remaining in the alphabet, in order, again utilizing all available squares. When you have managed that, then begin with the first letter of the alphabet,
Al-Ka, and continue writing the alphabet in order, over and over, once more on all available squares, until you arrive at the last square on the board.
When you have done this, one board, in effect, has been completed."
I think I understand," I said. "If, in a given message, for example, the notation 'Ubar to Ubara's Tarnsman Two' occurs, that could mean that, on the
board in question, say, Board 7, the square Ubara's Tarnsman Two was significant. On that board, then, we might suppose, given its arrangement, that
the square Ubara's Tarnsman Two might stand for, say, the letter 'Eta'. Both the sender and receiver, of course, can easily determine this, as they both
have the keys to construct the appropriate boards."
"Yes," said the player.
"The listing of the moves in an orderly sequence, of course, gives the order of the letters in the message," I said.
"Correct," said the player.
"I see how the multiples are effective," I said. "For example, the letter 'Eta', the most commonly occurring letter, would actually, on any given board, be
capable of being represented by any of a number of appropriate squares, each different, yet each corresponding to an 'Eta'. Similarly, of course, one
might skip about on the board, retreating on it, and so on, to utilize 'Eta Squares' in any fashion one chose. This would produce no confusion between
the sender and the receiver as long as the enciphered notation was in orderly sequence."
"Precisely," said the player.
"But where do the nulls come in?" I asked.
"In my exposition," the player reminded me, "I mentioned 'available squares'. A board key will commonly consist of a given word and a list of null
squares. The nulls may frequently occur in the enciphered message but they are, of course, immediately disregarded by the receiver."
"I see," I said. The presence of nulls and multiples in a message, of course, makes it much more difficult to decipher, if one lacks the key.
"The true power of the ciphers come in, in my opinion," said the player, "not so much with the multiples and nulls but with the multiplicity of boards.
Short messages, even in elementary

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ciphers, are often impossible to decipher without the key. There is often just not enough material to work with. Accordingly it is often difficult or
impossible to test one's deciphering hypotheses, eliminating some and perhaps confirming others. Often, in such a message, one might theoretically
work out numerous, and often conflicting analyses. The multiplicity of boards thus permits the shifting of the cipher several times within the context of
one message. This obviously contributes to the security of the communication."
"These ciphers seem simple and beautiful," I said, "as well as powerful."
"Too, if one wishes," he said, "one need not, in filling out the boards, do so as in the fashion of normal writing. One might writ all one's lines left to right,
for example, or right to left, or write them vertically, beginning at one side or the other, and beginning at the top or bottom, or diagonally, beginning at
any corner. One might use alternate lines, or left or right spirals from given points, and so on. Similarly, after the initial entry the remainder of the
alphabet could be written backwards, or beginning at a given point, or reversing alternate letters, and so on. These variations require only a brief
informative addition to the key and the list of null squares, if any."
"I see," I said.
"I think you can see now," he said, "why I cannot be of nay help to you. I am sorry."
"But you have been of help," I said. "You have made it a great deal clearer to me what may be involved here. I am deeply appreciative."
"Such ciphers are, for most practical purposes, impossible to decipher without the appropriate keys, null-square listing, and so on."
"I understand," I said. It seemed, as I had feared, that it might be difficult or impossible to decipher the messages without pertinent keying materials.
These materials, presumably, would exist in Brundisium, and of course, in Ar, if indeed that were the intended destination of the messages. I was now
prepared to believe that it was likely they were not messages intended for Priest-Kings.
First, Flaminius, it seemed, who was to have received the messages from the Lady Yanina, had apparently intended to deliver them not to the Sardar,
but to some party in Ar.
Secondly, I did not think it likely that messages which were to be transmitted to the Priest-Kings, or among their agents, would be likely to be in a
Kaissa cipher. Such ciphers seemed too

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intrinsically, or idiosyncratically, Gorean for Priest-Kings. Priest-Kings, as far as I knew, were not familiar with, and did not play, what Goreans often
speak of simply as "the Game." this suggested to me then that the messages might be transmissions of sort which might occur among the agents of
I recalled one message from Kurii or their agents, to Samos of Port Kar, which had been written on a scytale, disguised as a girl's hair ribbon. The girl
who had originally worn it to his house, a blond-haired, blue-eyed Earth girl, was now one of his slaves. She had been named "Linda."
I recalled another message, too, which we had intercepted, a well-disguised but simple substitution cipher. It had been recorded in the ordering of a
string of slave beads. It had been carried, too, in its way, by a slave. She had been a poetess, and a lovely, curvaceous wench, one obviously born for
the collar. I think she, too, had been of Earth origin, though little of that had remained in her when I saw her. As I recall, her name was "Dina." At that
time, at least, she had been owned by Clitus Vitellius, a warrior of Ar.
The nature of the messages, then, in a native-type Gorean cipher, suggested to me that there might be some sort of linkage between Kurii, and their
agents, and Brundisium and Ar. This would be natural enough, I supposed, because close relations reputedly existed between the two cities. This would
make travel and communication between them practical in a world where strangers are often regarded with suspicion, indeed, a world on which the
same word is generally used for both "stranger" and "enemy." Kurii, then, I suspected, must control Brundisium, or be influential there. It might be an
outpost for them or a base of operations for them, perhaps, as, I gathered, Corcyrus had been, in the recent past. The Lady Yanina had been of the
household of the Ubar of Brundisium, a fellow named Belnar. This suggested that he himself, as she seemed to be in his employ, might well be in league
with Kurii.
The keying materials for the messages, I suspected, would lie in the palace in Brundisium, perhaps even in the private chambers of her Ubar himself,
Belnar. I myself was not in hiding from Priest-Kings, presumably to remain under cover until Samos had resolved certain matters with the Sardar, or until
some now developments might be forthcoming. I was not now pleased with Priest-Kings. I did not now, any longer, really consider myself as being of
their party. AT best I had, even in the past, served them or not, as my inclinations prompted. I was perhaps less of a pledged adherent in their wars
than a free sword, a mercenary of
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sorts, one who accepted one cause or another, as it might please him to do so.
Still, I recognized that it was the power of Priest-Kings which, in its way, protected both Gor and Earth from the onslaught of lurking Kurii, concealed in
their steel worlds, hidden among the orbiting stones and mountains, the small worlds and moons, of the asteroid belt. There was some point, then, in
my being at least somewhat well disposed toward their cause. If Brundisium were in league with Kurii, I did not suppose it would do Samos any harm to
learn of it. Yes, upon reflection, it now seemed quite likely that Brundisium was in league with Kurii, that there was some sort of connection between the
palace at Brundisium and the subtleties and machinations of the denizens of the steel worlds. More importantly, I was curious to know the content of
those secret messages. Their keys might well lie in the private chambers of Belnar. Perhaps I could pay them a visit. It might be difficult, of course, to
gain access to the palace. But perhaps it could be somehow arranged. Players of Gor, page 241-247

Incidentally, there are many brands on gor. Two that almost never occur on Gor, by the way, are those of the moons and the collar, and of the chain and
the claw. The first of these commonly occurs in certain of the Gorean enclaves on Earth, which serves as headquarters for agents of the priest kings, the
second tends to occur in the lairs of the Kurri agents on earth; ~the chain and claw brand, signifies, of course, slavery and subjection within the
compass of the Kur yoke.   Explorers of Gor, page 12

Agents of the Priest-Kings

There are many many agents that must work for the Priest-Kings, for I have come to realie that some work as slavers, picking up women from Earth
while others placed in cities all over Gor work cor the Priest-Kings in their war against the Kurii.

Tarl Cabot and his father
I saw the ship descend. For a moment it looked like a falling star, but then it suddenly became clear and substantial, like a broad, thick disc of silver. It
was silent and settled on the rock platform, scarcely disturbing the light snow that was scattered on it. There was a slight wind in the pine needles, and
I rose to my feet. As I did so, a door in the side of the ship slid quietly upward. I must go in. My father's words recurred in my memory : 'The fate is upon
you.' Before entering the ship, I stopped at the side of the large, flat rock on which it rested. I bent down and scooped up, as my father had asked, a
handful of our green earth. I, too, felt that it was important to take something with me, something which, in a way, was my native soil. The soil of my
planet, my world.

I remembered nothing from the time I'd boarded the silver disc in the mountains of New Hampshire until now. I awoke, feeling rested, and opened my
eyes, half expecting to see my room in the alumni house at the college. I turned my head, without pain or discomfort. I seemed to be lying on some
hard, flat object, perhaps a table, in a circular room with a low ceiling some seven feet high. There were five narrow windows, not large enough to let a
man through; they rather reminded me of ports for bowmen in a castle tower, yet they admitted sufficient light to allow me to recognise my
surroundings. Tarnsman of Gor, page 20-21

What of the ship that brought me here?' I asked. 'Surely that is a mervellous example of your technology?

'Not of our technology, but of that of the Priest-Kings,' he said. 'I do not believe the ship was manned by any of the Men Below the Mountains.'

'By Priest-Kings?' I asked.
'Frankly,' said my father, 'I believe the ship was remotely controlled from the Sardar Mountains, as are said to be all the Voyages of Acquisition.'
'Of Acquisition?'
'Yes,' said my father. 'And long ago I made the same strange journey. As have others.'
'But for what end, to what purpose?' I demanded.
'Each perhaps for a different end, for each perhaps a different purpose,' he said. Tarnsman of Gor, page 32

Kuurus(Tarl Cabot) and Vella

Kuurus and Vellas task are to  infilter the house of Cernus and learn what the Kurii are planning next all the while Kuurus is searching for the assassin
that attempted to take his like as Tarl Cabot.
It is a dangerous thing you are doing, Elizabeth," said Kuurus.

"You had best call me Vella," said she, "for that is the name I am known by in the House of Cernus."

He gathered her in his arms, and she kissed him. "I have missed you," said she, "Tarl Cabot."

"And I have missed you, too," I said.

I kissed her.

"We must speak of our work," I mumbled, "our plans and purposes, and how we may achieve them."

'The business of Priest-Kings and such," said she, "is surely less important than our present activities." Assassin of Gor, page 23

Samos and Bosk

We see Bosk(Tarl Cabot) and Samos throughout the books, Samos  seems to have been an agent for a long time, he is working also with the
Priest-Kings to fight the war against the encroachment of Kurii on Gor.

I lifted the strung beads to the square-jawed man with short, closely cropped white hair Samos, of Port Kar.
I knelt back on my heels.
Samos put the beads o the small table before him.
"Is this all?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"It is the necklace," said Iskander. "I have done what I can. should it bear an import, it is up to the others to detect it."
"Give me the necklace," said Bosk of Port Kar.
Samos handed it to him.
The pirate regarded it. "Note," said he, "the frequency of yellow beads. Each third bead is yellow." "yes, " said Samos.
"why should that be?" smiled Bosk.
"I do not know," said Samos.
"From the fact the each third bead is yellow," said Bosk, "we may infer that the units of import consist of pairs of beads, separated by the yellow beads.
Note that this pair consists of a red bead followed by a blue bead, and this other pair by an orange bead followed by a red bead. Then are several such
combinations. we might suppose that, say, a red bead followed by a blue bead correlates with one alphabetic character."
"what if the order were reversed?" asked Samos.
"Doubtless, if that combination were used, it would correlate with a different character," said Bosk.
"we do not have the key to the cipher," said Iskander.
"We can try all combinations!" Cried Samos, pounding the table.
"We may suppose," said Bosk, "as a working hypothesis, that the message is in Gorean, As far as we know, Belisarius, whom we know only by name,
and it may be a code name, is Gorean."
"Yes?" said Samos. "See," said Bosk, who was examining the necklace, "the most frequent combination of colors is blue and red."
"So? asked Samos.
"In Gorean, " said Bosk, "the most frequently occurring letter is Eta. We might then begin by supposing that the combination of blue and read signifies
and Eta."
"I see," said Samos
"The next most frequently occurring letters in Gorean," said Bosk, "are Tau, Al-Ka, Omnioin and Nu. Following these in frequency of occurrence are Ar,
Ina, Shu and Homan, and so on."
""How is this known?" asked Samos.
"it is based upon letter counts," said Bosk, "over thousands of words in varieties of manuscripts."
"These matters have been determined by scribes?" asked Samos.
"Yes," said Bosk.
"Why should they be interested in such things?"
"such studies were conducted originally, at least publicly, as opposed to the presumed secret studies of cryptographers, in connection wit the Sardar
Fairs," said Bosk, "at meetings of Scribes concerned to standardize and simplify the cursive alphabet. Also, it was thought to have consequences for
improved pedagogy, in teaching children to first recognize the most commonly occurring letter."
"I was taught the alphabet beginning with Al-Ka," smiled Samos.
"As was I," said Bosk, "perhaps we should first have been taught Eta."
"that is not tradition!" said Samos.
"True," admitted Bosk, "And these immovative scribes have had little success with their proposed reforms. Yet, from their labors, various interesting facts
have emerged. For example, we have learned not only the offer of frequency of occurrence of letters but, as would be expected, rough percentages of
occurrence as well. Eta, for expected, occurs two hundred times more frequently in the language than Altron. Over forty percent of the language consists
of the first five letters I mentioned, Eta, Tau, Al-Ka, Onion and Nu."
"That seems impossible,"J said Samos.
"It is true," said Bosk. "Further, over sixty percent of the language consists of those five letters plus Ar. Ina, Shu and Homan." Slave Girl of Gor, pages

The remark she overheard, in English, concerning the return of the slave ships?" I asked.
"Yes," said Samos. When I had probed the girl in the pens, mercilessly, forcing her to recall all details, even apparently meaningless scraps of detail, or
information, she had recalled one thing, which had seemed puzzling, disturbing. I had not much understood it, but Samos had evinced concern. He knew
more than I of the affairs of Others, the Kurii, and Priest-Kings. The girl had heard the remark drowsily, half stupified, shortly after her arrival on Gor.
She, stripped, half drugged, the identification anklet of the Kurii locked on her left ankle, had lain on her stomach, with other girls, in the fresh grass of
Gor. They had been removed from the slave capsules in which they had been transported. She had risen, to her elbows, her head down. She had then
been conscious, vaguely, of being turned about and lifted, and carried, to a different place in the line, one determined by her height. Usually the tallest
girls lead the slave chain, the height decreasing gradually toward the end of the chain, where the shortest girl is placed. This was a "common chain,"
sometimes called a "march chain" or "trekking chain"; it was not a "display chain: in the "display chain," or "selling chain," the arrangement of the girls
may be determined by a variety of considerations, aesthetic and psychological; for example, blondes may be alternated with brunets, voluptuous girls
with slim, vital girls, aristocratic girls with sweet, peasant wenches, and so on; sometimes a girl is placed between two who are less beautiful, to
enhance her beauty; sometimes the most beautiful is saved for the last on the chain; sometimes the chain is used as a ranking device, the most
beautiful being-placed at its head, the other girls then competing with one another constantly to move to a new wrist-ring, snap-lock or collar, one
higher on the chain. She had been thrown to her stomach in the grass, and her left wrist drawn to her side and down. She had heard the rustle of a
looped chain, and the periodic click of the wrist-rings. She felt a length of chain dropped across the back of her thighs. Then, about her left wrist, too,
closed the wrist-ring, and she, too, was a girl in a coffle. A man had stood by, making entries in a book. When her identification anklet had been
removed, after she was in the wrist-ring, the man removing it had said something to the man with the book, and an entry had been made. When the
girls were coffled, the man with the book had signed a paper, giving it to the captain of the slave ship. She knew it must be a receipt for merchandise
received. The cargo manifests, apparently, had been correct. She had pulled weakly at the wrist-ring ,but it of course, held her. It had been then that
the man with the book had asked the captain if he would return soon. The man with the book spoke in an accent, Gorean. The captain, she gathered,
did not speak Gorean. The captain had said, as she remembered it, that he did not know when they would return, that he had received orders that
there were to be no more voyages until further orders were received. She was conscious of the departure of the ship, and the grass beneath her body,
and the chain lying across her legs, and the steel of the wrist-ring. She felt the chain move as the girl to her right stirred. Her left wrist was moved
slightly behind her. They lay in the shade of trees, concealed from the air. They were not permitted to rise. When one girl had cried out, she had been
beaten with a switch. Miss Priscilla Blake-Allen had not dared to cry out. After dark, they were herded to a wagon.
"Why," asked Samos, "should the slave ships cease their runs?"
"An invasion?" I asked.
"Unlikely," said Samos, "If an invasion were to be launched soon, surely the slave runs would continue. Their cessation would surely alert the defense
and surveillance facilities of Priest-Kings. One would not, surely, produce a state of apprehension and heightened awareness in the enemy prior to an
"It does not seem so," I admitted, "unless the Kurii, perhaps, feel that just such a move might put the Priest-Kings off guard, that it would be too
obvious to be taken as a prelude to full war." "But this possibility, doubtless," smiled Samos "too, is one which will not fail to be considered by the rulers
of the Sardar."
I shrugged. It had been long since I had been in the Sardar.
"It may mean an invasion is being readied," said Samos. "But I think the Kurii, who are rational creatures, will not risk full war until reasonably assured
as to its outcome. I suspect their reconnaissance is as yet incomplete. The organization of native Kurii, which would have constituted a splendid
intelligence probe, and was doubtless intended primarily as such, yielded them little information."
I smiled. The invasion of native Kurii from the north, survivors and descendants of ship Kurii, for generations, had been stopped in Torvaldsland.
"I think," said Samos "it is something other than an invasion." He looked at me grimly. "It is, I suspect, something which would render an invasion
unnecessary." Tribesmen of Gor, page 15-16


An agent of the Pirest-Kings, passing off as a stupid anddisgusting piece of flesh to most, but valued by the Priest-Kings and those that work with him in
the war against Kurii.
It was fresh and clean, bright scarlet, pressed with hot, round irons warmed over fires. I buckled about my waist the belt and scabbard. They were of
new leather, black and shining, with embossings of brass. But it was my old sword, the fine, familiar steel, remembered even from the siege of Ar, many
years before, that I dropped into the scabbard. Sitting on the edge of the stone couch I bent down to tie my sandals. Hup was sitting cross-legged on a
chest across the room, his chin in his hands. There was much sun in the room.

"I am the agent of Priest-Kings in Ar," said Hup. "From the beginning I have followed your movements in the city." Assassin of Gor, page 388

Teibar, Taurog and Hercon

On this ship of acquisition a slave girl taken from Earth will be brought to Gor. She is but one among many and we also realie that there are many that
work to furnish Gor with slavegirls from Earth, what they consider to be, the "Slave World".

"You will be placed in that, head first, gagged, and bound, hand and foot," said Teibar, "but, even if you were not bound, it would be very difficult for
you, because of the tightness and narrowness of the sack, to do more than wiggle a little."

I tried to rise up but a conical, stiff, rubberized mask was thrust over my nose and mouth, and, by means of it, I was pushed back on the table. Taurog
held my wrists, pinning me back on the table´s surface. Hercon held my ankles. I struggled. My eyes must have been wild over the mask. Teibar poured
some fluid from a small bottle into an opening, or through a porous mesh, at the apex of the mask. He held it firmly over my nose and mouth.

"Steady, steady, little slut," said Teibar, soothingly. "There is no use to struggle. Your struggles will avail you not in the least."

I tried to fight the mask but I could not. I was held. I was held, helplessly. My strength, that of a woman, was nothing to theirs, that of men. I wondered
what might be the meaning of that, in a natural world.

"Breathe deeply," said Teibar.

I tried to move my head, but, because of the tightness of the mask, over my nose and mouth, and how he held it on me, pressing it down upon me, I
could not. I tried to hold my breath. I felt a drop of liquid, and then a trickle of liquid, run on the bridge of my nose, and then its way down my right cheek.

"Breathe deeply," said Teibar, soothingly.

I fought to hold my breath.

Hercon said something.

"Come now," said Teibar, to me, "you are disappointing Hercon."

I looked up at him, wildly.

"Breathe deeply," he said. "You do not wish to disappoint Hercon. Taurog too, was so proud of you. You would not wish to disappoint him, too, would
you? Not after you did so well, in the matter of the chain. The time will come, I assure you, when (pg. 50) you will be extremely concerned that you not
disappoint men in any way, in the least."

I sudden coughed, half choking, in the mask. I gasped in air, plaintively, eagerly, desperately, in those tiny, hot confines. There was a closeness, an
oppressiveness within them.

"Good," said Teibar. "Now, breathe slowly, regularly, deeply."

I looked up at him over the tight rubber rim of the mask.

"Surely you understand that resistance is useless," he said.

I sobbed. My eyes were bright with tears. I breathed in, deeply.

"Good," said Teibar. "Good."

It seemed there was a kind of heaviness inside the mask. It was not a strangling sensation and then, with my first gasp for air, an obliteration of
consciousness, almost like a blow. This was quite different. It was patient, slow and gentle. I breathed in and out, deeply, slowly, regularly, in misery.
Too, of course, it would be relentless and implacable.

"Good," said Teibar.

Hercon released my ankles. I sluggishly, groggily, moved my feet. I felt the anklet with my right foot, and tried weakly to push it from my ankle, but, of
course, it was useless. It only hurt the side of my right foot a little, and the inside of my left ankle. it was on me. I could not remove it. It was there, on
me, until someone else, not me, might want it off. I was "ankleted," whatever that meant.

"Breathe deeply," said Teibar. "Good. Good."

Taurog released my wrists. He put my hands at my sides. I could not lift them.

"Deeply, deeply," said Teibar, soothingly.

I felt a key thrust into the lock on the collar I wore. It was then removed from me. I was dimly conscious of Taurog coiling the chain and replacing it in the
attaché case.

"Struggle now, if you wish," said Teibar, "slut."

But I could scarcely move. I could not raise my arms. I could not even bring my hands to the mask, and had I been able to do so, I would have been too
weak to push it away. About the peripheries of my vision it seemed dark. It was hot under the tight mask. I felt another drop of liquid within the mask.  
Dancer of Gor, page 49-50
In this long quote, it shows just how intricate the games of hte Kurii and
Priest-Kings are. As agents of the Priest-Kings, these men at times feel they
have the weight of saving Gor on their shoulders.

From Players of Gor

page 241
"No," he said, pleasantly enough.
"That Ubara sacrifice was not really all that bad, was it?" I asked.
"No," he said, "it was actually not all that bad. In fact, it was rather good."
"I thought so," I said.
I watched the player replacing the pieces in the leather wallet. He was in a
good mood. Just as I had thought, that Ubara sacrifice had not been all
that straightforward, or elementary. That, at least, gave me some
This research is done on the series of books written by John Norman, the comments in italics are mine and my point of view.
Woman of Gor
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Kurii & Priest Kings
Agents of the Priest-King