Quotes Index

1 - Our discussion terminated abruptly. There was a rush of wings outside
the window of my apartment, and the Older Tarl flung himself across the room and dragged me to the floor. At the same moment the iron bolt of a crossbow, fired through one the narrow windows, struck the wall behind my chair-stone and ricocheted viciously about the room. I caught a glimpse of a black helmet through the port as a warrior, still clutcing a crossbow andmounted on his tarn, hauled up on the one-strap and flew from the window.
    There were shouts, and, rushing to the window, I saw several answering bolts leave the cylinder and fly in the direction of the retreating assailant, who was now almost half a pasang away and making good his escape.
    'A member of the Caste of Assassins,' said the Older Tarl, gazing at the retreating speck in the distance. 'Marlenus, who would be Ubar of all Gor, knows of your existence.'
Chapter 4

2 - "More effective than the Assassins of Ar," she said. "Pa-Kur, Ar’s Master Assassin, was dispatched to kill you, but failed."
Chapter 8

3 - I had noticed that there was among the crowd one tall, sombre figure who sat alone on a high, wooden throne, surrounded by tarnsmen. He wore the black helmet of a member of the Caste of Assassins.
Chapter 11

4 - I cleared my head as best I could, and into my uncertain field of vision moved a dark object, which became the black helmet of a member of the Caste of Assassins. Slowly, with a stylised movement, the helmet was lifted, and I found myself staring up into a grey, lean, cruel face, a face that might have
been made of metal. The eyes were inscrutable, as if they had been made of  glass or stone and set artificially in that metallic masj of a countenance.
    'I am Pa-Kur,' said the man.
    It was he, the Master Assassin of Ar, leader of the assembled horde.
    'We meet again,' I said.
    The eyes, like glass or stone, revealed nothing.
    'The cylinder at Ko-ro-ba,' I said. 'The crossbow.'
    He said nothing.
    'You failed to kill me that time,' I taunted. 'Perhaps you would care to risk another shot now. Perhaps the mark would be more suited to your skills.'
    The men behind Pa-Kur muttered at my impudence. He himself
showed no impatience.
    'My weapon,' he said, simply extending his hand. A crossbow was  immediately placed in his grip. It was a large steel bow, wound and set, the iron quarrel placed in the guide.
    I prepared to welcome the bolt flashing through my body. I was curious to know if I would be concious of its strike. Pa-Kur raised his hand with an imperious gesture. From somewhere I saw a small, round object sailing high into the air, out over the river. It was a tarn disc hurled by one of Pa-Kur's men. Just as the tiny object, black against the blue sky, reached its apogee, I
heard the click of the trigger, the vibration of the string, and the swift hiss of the quarrel. Before the tarn disc could begin its fall, the quarrel pierced it, carrying it, I would judge, some two hundred and fifty yards out into the  river. The men of Pa- Kur stamped their feet in the sand and clanged their
spears on their shields.
    'I spoke as a fool,' I said to Pa-Kur.
    'And you will die the death of a fool,' he said. He spoke with no trace of anger or emotion of any kind.
He motioned to the men to thrust the frame out into the river, where it would be swept away.
    'Wait,' I said, 'I ask your favour.' The words came hard.
    Pa-Kur gestured to the men to desist.
    'What have you done with the girl?'
    'She is Talena, daughter of the Ubar Marlenus,' said Pa-Kur. 'She will rule in Ar, as my queen.'
    'She would die first,' I said.
    'She has accepted me,' said Pa-Kur, 'and will rule by my side.' The stone eyes regarded me, expressionless. 'It was her wish that you die the death of a villain,' he said, 'on the Frame of Humiliation, unworthy to stain our weapons.'
    I closed my eyes. I should have known that the proud Talena, daughter of a Ubar, would leap at the first chance to return to power in Ar, even though it be at the head of a plundering host of brigands. And I, her protector, was now to be discarded. Indeed, the Frame of Humiliation would be ample vengeance to satisfy even Talena for the indignities she had suffered at my
hands. It, if anything, would wipe out forever from her mind the offensive memory that she had once needed my help and had pretended to love me. Then, each of the men of Pa-Kur, as is the custom before a frame is surrendered to the waters of the Vosk, spit on my body. Lastly, Pa-Kur spit on his hand and then placed his hand on my chest. 'Were it not for the daughter of Marlenus,' said Pa-Kur, his metallic face as placid as the quicksilver behind
a mirror, 'I would have slain you honourably. That I swear by the black helmet of my caste.'
Chapter 12

5 - 'On the highest ground in camp,' said Mintar, 'near the second ditch and across from the great gate of Ar. You will see the black banner of the Caste of Assassins.'
Chapter 15

6 – I dyed my hair black and acquired the helmet and gear of an Assassin. Across the left temple of the black helmet I fixed the golden sash of the messenger.
Chapter 16

7 - Pa-Kur himself rode a black tharlarion, one of the few I had seen.
Chapter 17

8 - The cylinder was white, a color Goreans often associate with impartiality. More significantly, it indicated that the justice dispensed therein was the justice of Initiates.
Chapter 18

9 - I had expected to be fired on immediately but suddenly
remembered that I still wore the garb of the messenger. No Assassin would
fire on me, and no one else would dare.
Chapter 19

10 - Pa-Kur approached warily, confident in his superior swordsmanship, but, as I expected, determined to take no chances.
Chapter 19

- Outlaw of Gor -

11 - In the next flash of lightning I saw the white robes of an
Initiate, the shaven head and the sad eyes of one of the
Blessed Caste, servants it is said of the Priest-Kings
themselves.
Chapter 5

12 - Since the siege of Ar, when Pa-Kur, Master Assassin, had violated the
limits of his caste and had presumed, in contradiction to the traditions of
Gor, to lead a horde upon the city, intending to make himself Ubar, the
Caste of Assassins had lived as hated, hunted men, no longer esteemed
mercenaries whose services were sought by cities, and, as often by factions
within cities. Now many assassins roamed Gor, fearing to wear the sombre
black tunic of their caste, disguised as members of other castes, not
infrequently as warriors.
Chapter 8

- Priest-Kings of Gor -

13 - And when the swift living blade of Sarm was still a full yard from my throat it met the lightning steel of a Gorean blade that had once been carried at the siege of Ar, that had met and withstood and conquered the steel of Pa-Kur, Gor's Master Assassin, until that time said to be the most skilled swordsman on the planet.
Chapter 27

- Nomads of Gor -

14 - "It is said," remarked Kamchak, "that the sword of Ha-Keel is scarcely less swift and cunning than
that of Pa-Kur, the Master of Assassins."
    "Pa-Kur is dead," I said. "He died in the siege of Ar."
    "Was the body recovered?" asked Kamchak.
    "No," I said.
    Kamchak smiled. "I think, Tarl Cabot," he said. "you would never make a Tuchuk."
    "Why is that?" I asked.
    "You are too innocent," he said, "too trusting."
    "Long ago," said Harold, nearby, "I gave up expecting more of a Koroban."
    I smiled. "Pa-Kur," I said, "defeated in personal combat on the high roof of the Cylinder
of Justice in Ar, turned and to avoid capture threw himself over the ledge. I do not think
he could fly."
    "Was the body recovered?" Kamchak asked again.
    "No," I said. "But what does it matter?"
    "It would matter to a Tuchuk," said Kamchak.
    "You Tuchuks are indeed a suspicious lot," I remarked.
    "What would have happened to the body?" asked Harold, and it seemed he was serious.
    "I suppose," I said, "it was torn to pieces by the crowds below or lost with the other dead.
Many things could have happened to it."
    "It seems then," said Kamchak, "that he is dead."
    "Surely," I said.
    "Let us hope so," said Kamchak, "For your sake."
Chapter 26

Assassin of Gor

15 - Kuurus, of the Caste of Assassins, crouched on the crest of the small hill, leaning with both hands on the shaft of his spear, looking down into the shallow valley, waiting. He would not yet be welcome.
Chapter 1

16 - Kuurus stood up and stretched. He picked up his short sword in its scabbard, his helmet and his shield. These he slung over his left shoulder. Then he picked up his spear, and stood there, against the sky, on the crest of the hill, in the black tunic.
Chapter 1

17 - He wore a black robe with a stripe of white down the front and back. Kuurus  knew that it would be this man, who wore the black, but not the full black, of the Assassin, who would deal with him. Kuurus smiled bitterly to himself. He laughed at the stripe of white. Their tunic, said Kuurus to himself, is as black as mine.
    When the man near the smoking wood turned to face him, Kuurus descended the hill. He was now welcome. Kuurus smiled to himself.
    The man did not greet him, nor did Kuurus lift his hand to the man, palm inward, saying "Tal."
    The man was a strange man, thought Kuurus. His head was totally devoid of hair, even to the lack of eyebrows. Perhaps he is some sort of Initiate, thought Kuurus
Chapter 1

18 - Without speaking the man took twenty pieces of gold, tarn disks of Ar, of double weight, and gave them to Kuurus, who placed them in the pockets of his belt. The Assassins, unlike most castes, do not carry pouches.
Chapter 1

19 - "Justice must be done," said the man.
Kuurus said nothing, but only looked at the man. Often, though not always, they spoke of justice. It pleases them to speak of justice, he said to himself. And of right. It eases them and gives them peace.
There is no such thing as justice, said Kuurus, to himself. There is only gold and steel.
    "Whom am I to kill?" asked Kuurus.
    "I do not know," said the man.
Kuurus looked at him angrily. Yet he had in the pockets of his belt twenty gold tarn disks, and of double
weight. There must be more.
    "All we know is this," said the man, handing him a greenish patch.
Kuurus studied the patch. "It is a faction patch," said he. "It speaks to me of the tarn races of Ar."
    "It is true," said the man.
The faction patches are worn in Ar by those who favor a given faction in the racing. There are several
such factions, who control the racing and compete among themselves, the greens, the reds, the golds, the
yellows, the silvers.
    "I shall go to Ar," said Kuurus.
    "If you are successful," said the man, "return and you will receive a hundred such pieces of gold."
Kuurus looked at him. "If it is not true," he said, "you will die."
Chapter 1

20 - “Kuurus, of the caste of the assassins, entered the great gate of Ar. Guardsmen did not detain him, for he wore on his forehead the mark of the black dagger.”
Chapter 2

21 - Not for many years had the black tunic of the Assassins been seen within the walls of Ar, not since the siege of that city in 10,110 from its founding, in the days of Marlenus, who had been Ubar; of Pa-Kur, who had been Master of the Assassins; and of the Ko-ro-ban Warrior, in the songs called Tarl of Bristol.
For years the black of the Assassins had been outlawed in the city. Pa-Kur, who had been Master of the Assassins, had led a league of tributary cities to attack Imperial Ar in the time when its Home Stone had been stolen and its Ubar forced to flee. The city had fallen and Pa-Kur, though of low caste, had aspired
to inherit the imperial mantle of Marlenus, had dared to lift his eyes to the throne of Empire and place about his neck the golden medallion of a Ubar, a thing forbidden to such as he in the myths of the Counter-Earth. Pa-Kur's horde had been defeated by an alliance of free cities, led by Ko-ro-ba and Thentis, under the command of Matthew Cabot of Ko-ro-ba, the father of Tarl of Bristol, and Kazrak of  Port Kar, sword brother of the same Warrior. Tarl of Bristol himself on the windy height of Ar's Cylinder of Justice had defeated Pa-Kur, Master of the Assassins. From that time the black of the Assassins had not been seen in the streets of Glorious Ar.
Chapter 2

22 - “Yet none would stand in the way of Kuurus for he wore on his forehead, small and fine, the sign of the black dagger. When he of the Caste of Assassins has been paid his gold and has received his charge he affixes on his forehead that sign, that he may enter whatever city he pleases, that none may interfere with his work. There are few men who have done great wrong or who have powerful, rich enemies who do not tremble upon learning that one has been brought to their city who wears the dagger.”
Chapter 2

23 - “A woman carrying a market basket moved to one side, watching him, that she might not touch him, holding a child to her.
A peasant moved away that the shadow of the Assassin might not fall across his own”
Chapter 2

24 - “The men looked at the Assassin, who regarded them, one by one. Men turned white under that gaze. Some fled from the tables, lest, unknown to themselves, it be they for whom this man wore the mark of the black dagger.”
Chapter 2

25 - At a gesture from the proprietor, the grimy man in the
tunic of white and gold, one of the serving slaves, with a flash
of her ankle bells, hurried to the Assassin and set before him
a bowl, which she trembling filled from the flask held over her
right forearm. Then, with a furtive glance at the girl chained
at the side of the room, the serving slave hurried away.
    Kuurus took the paga bowl in both hands and put his head down,
looking into it. Then, somberly, he lifted it to his lips and drank.
Chapter 2

26 - “Scarcely a quarter of an Ahn had passed and the men who drank in that room had forgotten, as is the way of men, that a dark one sat with them in that room, one who wore the black tunic of the Caste of Assassins, who silently drank with them.”
Chapter 2

27 -‘ "Yes, Master," said Hup.
"Was the begging good today?" asked Kuurus.
Hup looked at him in fear. "Yes, Master," he said, "yes!"
"Then you have money," said Kuurus, and stood up behind the table, slinging the sheath of the short sword about his shoulder.
Hup wildly thrust a small, stubby, knobby hand into his pouch and hurled a coin, a copper tarn disk, to Kuurus, who caught it and placed it in one of the pockets of his belt.
"Do not interfere," snarled the man who held the hook knife.
"There are four of us," said another, putting his hand on his sword.
"I have taken money," said Kuurus.
The men in the tavern, and the girls, began to move away from the tables.
"We are Warriors," said another.
Then a coin of gold struck the table before the Assassin, ringing on the wood.
All eyes turned to face a paunchy man, in a robe of blue and yellow silk. "I am Portus," he said. "Do not interfere, Assassin."
Kuurus picked up the coin and fingered it, and then he looked at Portus. "I have already taken money," he said.
Portus gasped. ‘
Chapter 2

28 - "Welcome, Killer," said the man, addressing the Assassin by what, for that caste, is a title of respect.”
Chapter 2

29 – "May I ask, Killer," asked Portus, "if you come to make the first killing----or the second?"
    "The second," said Kuurus.
    "I hunt," said Kuurus.
    "Of course," said Portus.
    "I come to avenge," said Kuurus.
Portus smiled. "That is what I meant," he said, "that it is good those in the black tunic are once again amongst us, that justice can be done, order restored, right upheld."
Chapter 2

30 - ‘ "I shall permit my sword to be hired," said Kuurus.
"Good!" cried Portus, his hands on the table, his eyes gleaming. "Good!"
"By the House of Cernus," said the assassin. ‘
Chapter 2

31 - Thrusting her to her feet and forcing her to walk before
him, he went to the counter, behind which stood the man in the grimy tunic of white and gold. Kuurus threw the key to him. "Use twenty-seven," said the man, handing Kuurus a bit of silk, Pleasure Silk, wrapped about a set of slave chains.
    Kuursu threw the silk and chains over his shoulder and motioned the girl to move ahead of him and, numbly, she did so, crossing the room, going between the tables, and stopping before the narrow ladder at the right side of the high wall, in which were found the ledges with their alcoves. Not speaking, but
woodenly, she climbed the ladder and crawled onto the shelf near the tiny alcove marked with the Gorean equivalent of twenty-seven and entered, followed by Kuurus, who drew the curtains behind them.
Chapter 2

32 - "Aii!" I cried, though the outburst was scarcely in keeping with the somber black I wore, and an instant later the Tarn Keeper and the Saddle Maker cried out, and began to stamp their feet in the dust, and pound their fists against their left shoulders. Then others watching cried out with glee. I myself remove my sword from its sheath and with it struck my shield.
Chapter 3

33 - "You are of the Assassins?" he asked.
    "Yes," I said, "it is my caste."
    He pressed the piece of gold into my hand and turned away, stumbling from me, reaching out with his
right hand to guide himself along the wall.
    "Wait!" I cried. "You have won this! Take it!" I ran to him.
    "No!" he cried, striking out wildly with a hand, trying to force me away. I stepped back. He stood there, panting, not seeing me, his body bent over, angry. "It is black gold," he said. "It is black gold." He then turned away, and began to grope his way from the place of the game.
Chapter 3

34 - The older Tarl, taking the knife by the hand guard withdrew it. It was a throwing knife, of a sort used in Ar, much smaller than the southern quiva, and tapered on only one side. It was a knife designed for killing. Mixed with the blood and fluids of the body there was a smear of white at the end of the steel, the softened residue of a glaze of kanda paste, now melted by body heat, which had coated the tip of the blade. On the hilt of the dagger, curling about it, was the legend "I have sought him. I have found him." It was a killing knife.
"The Caste of Assassins?" I had asked.
"Unlikely," had said the Older Tarl, "for Assassins commonly are too proud for poison."
Chapter 4

35 - I had decided to wait until the Fourth Passage Hand, that following Eh'Var, and then take tarn for Ar, where I would pose as a mercenary tarnsman seeking employment in the House of Cernus, but when the Warrior from Thentis, who resembled me, was slain early in En'Var, I decided to go to Ar in the guise of an Assassin, by High Tharlarion, for Assassins are not commonly tarnsmen.
Chapter 5

36 - "He frightens me," she wept. "He is of the black caste."
Chapter 6

37 – “"Greetings, Flaminius," said Ho-Tu. "May I introduce Kuurus, of the black caste, but of our employ?"
Chapter 11

38 - "I see you now wear the red of the Warrior," said he, "rather than the black of the Assassin."
I said nothing.
    "I know disguises are useful," said he, "in hunting." He grinned at me. "I liked what you did at the game,
when you gave the double tarn to the Player."
    "He did not accept it," I said. "To him it was black gold."
    "And so it was," said the Tarn Keeper, "so it was."
    "It will buy as much as yellow gold," said I.
    "True," said the Tarn Keeper, "and that is what must be kept in mind."
Chapter 13

39 - I thought for a moment. Some Assassins are, as a matter of fact, skilled tarnsmen. "Yes," I said, "I am familiar with tarns."
Chapter 13

40 - Flaminius looked at me, curiously. "It is seldom," he said, "that those of the black caste laugh."
Chapter 18

- Raiders of Gor -

41 - The crossbow is the assassin's weapon, par excellence;
Chapter 1

42 - the peasants themselves, though regarded as the lowest caste on all Gor by most Goreans, call themselves proudly the ox on which the Home Stone rests, and I think their saying is true.
Chapter 1

- Hunters of Gor -

43 - Pa-Kur had leaped from its height. The sheerness of the fall was broken
only by a tarn perch, some feet below.
    I could see crowds milling at the foot of the cylinder.
    The body of the master of the assassins had never been recovered.
    Doubtless it had been torn to pieces by the crowd.
    In Ar, years earlier, Mip behind me, late at night, I walked out upon a tarn
perch, and surveyed the beauties of the lamps of Ar, glorious Ar. I had looked up
and seen, several feet above me, the height of the cylinder. It would be possible,
though dangerous to leap to the perch.
    I had thought little of it.
    Pa-Kur was dead.
    "Was the body recovered?" asked Kamchak.
    "No," I had told him. "It does not matter."
    I threw back my head and laughed
Chapter 22

44 – I wondered if Pa-Kur, Master of the Assassins, yet lived. I thought it not
impossible.
Chapter 22

- Slave Girl of Gor -

45 - In Thentis, for example, sleen are used to smell out contraband, in the form of the unauthorized egress of the beans for black wine from the Thentian territories. They are sometimes, too, used by assassins, though the caste of assassins itself, by their caste codes, precludes their usage; the member of the caste of assassins must make his own kill; it is in their codes.
Chapter 8

- Beasts of Gor -

46 - Scormus of Ar reminded me of men of the caste of Assassins, as they sometimes are, before they begin their hunt. The edge must be sharp, the resolve must be merciless, the instinct to kill must in no way be blunted.
Chapter 4

47  - Scormus would play like an Assassin. He would be merciless, and he would take no chances.
Chapter 4

48 - I thought him now of the assassins for the trick with the canvas was but a variant of the loosened door trick, left ajar as in flight, a lure to the unwary to plunge in his pursuit into the waiting blade.
Chapter 4

49 - I hoped to renew my acquaintance with the fellow. Little love is lost betwixt the castes of warriors and assassins. Each deems himself the superior of, and the natural foe, of the other. The sword of the warrior, commonly, is pledged to a Home Stone, that of the assassin to gold and the knife.
Chapter 7

50 - "The bolts," said the man, indicating the missiles at rest in the guides of the weapons, "are tipped with kanda. The slightest scratch from them will finish you."
"I see you are not of the assassins," I said. It is a matter of pride for members of that caste to avoid the use of poisoned steel. Too, their codes forbid it.
Chapter 7

51 - "He is called Drusus," she said. "He is of the metal workers."
"He is not a metal worker," I said. "He is of the Assassins.
"No," she said.
"I have seen him use a knife," I said. "He did not obey you," I observed.
Chapter 9

52 - "You are welcome," said he, smiling. Then he snapped his fingers. Through the door, bearing a tray, came a small, exquisite, brunet female slave. She was naked except for her collar and a leather-and-metal lock gag. Her mouth was closed. I saw the curved metal bars, rounded, about a quarter of an inch in diameter, emerging from the sides of her mouth. By means of a ratchet and pawl arrangement the device is fitted to the individual girl. It locks behind the back of the neck. It cannot be removed, even though the girl’s hands are free; She knelt before the gate of the cell and put her head to the steel floor. Two flasks on the tray she placed through the bars. She then slipped the tray through an opening, some four inches in height, in the bottom of the cell door. She then again put her head to the floor, and then stood up and withdrew, backing away, her head down. She looked at Drusus, who indicated she should leave the room. She slipped swiftly out, obedient, barefoot on the steel plates.
"A pretty little slave," I said. "Why is she in lock gag?"
"It pleases me," he said.
"Of course," I said.
Chapter 28

53 - "Some think the caste of assassins performs a service," I said, "but I find this difficult to take seriously. I suppose they could be hired in the service of justice, but it seems they could be as easily hired in the service of anything." I looked at him. "Do you fellows have any principles?" I asked.
Chapter 30

54 – The training of the assassin is thorough and cruel. He who wears the black of that caste has not won it easily. Candidates for the caste are chosen with great care, and only one in ten, it is said, completes the course of instruction to the satisfaction of the caste masters. It is assumed that failed candidates are slain, if not in the training, for secrets they may have learned. Withdrawal from the caste is not permitted. Training proceeds in pairs, each pair against others. Friendship is encouraged. Then, in the final training, each member of the pair must hunt the other. When one has killed one’s friend one is then likely to better understand the meaning of the black. When one has killed one’s friend one is then unlikely to find mercy in his heart for another. One is then alone, with gold and steel.
Chapter 30

55 - The assassins take in lads who are perhaps characterized by little but unusual swiftness, and cunning, and strength and skill, and perhaps a selfishness and greed, and, in time, transform this raw material into efficient, proud, merciless men, practitioners of a dark trade, men loyal to secret codes the content of which is something at which most men dare not guess.
Chapter 30

56 - "Assassins, as I recall," I said, "have no Home Stones. I suppose that is a drawback to caste membership, but if you did have Home Stones, it might be difficult to take fees on one whose Home Stone you shared."
Chapter 30

57 - "Kill me," he said. "It is twice I have failed my caste." I lifted the blade to strike him. "I will be swift," I told him.
I poised the steel.
"Let it be thus that an old debt owed to one named Kurnock is repaid," I said.
"That is the first time I failed my caste," said Drusus.
I regarded him.
"Strike," he said.
"I do not understand," I said.
"I did not kill Kurnock," he said. "He was no match for me. I could not bring myself to kill him."
I handed the sword to the third man on the sand.
"Kill me!" cried Drusus.
"Do you think a warrior can show less mercy than an Assassin?" I asked.
"Kill me," wept Drusus, and then, from the loss of blood, fell into the sand.
"He is too weak to be an assassin," I said. "Remove him."
Chapter 30

58 - "But you are of the Assassins," I said.
    "We are tenacious fellows," he smiled.
    "I have heard that," I said.
    "Do you think that only Warriors are men?" he asked.
    "No," I said. "I have never been of that opinion."
    "Let us proceed," he said.
    "I thought you were too weak to be an Assassin," I said.
    "I was once strong enough to defy the dictates of my caste," he said. "I was once strong
enough to spare my friend, though I feared that in doing this I would myself be killed."
    "Perhaps you are the strongest of the dark caste," I said.
He shrugged.
    "Let us see who can fight better," I said.
    "Our training is superior to yours," he said.
    "I doubt that," I said. "But we do not get much training dropping poison into people's
drinks."
    "Assassins are not permitted poison," he said proudly.
    "I know," I said.
    "The Assassin," he said, "is like a musician, a surgeon. The Warrior is like a butcher. He
is a ravaging, bloodthirsty lout."
    "There is much to what you say," I granted him. "But Assassins are such arid fellows.
Warriors are more genial, more enthusiastic."
    "An Assassin goes in and does his job, and comes out quietly," he said. "Warriors storm buildings and burn towers."
    "It is true that I would rather clean up after an Assassin than a Warrior," I said.
    "You are not a bad fellow for a Warrior," he said.
    "I have known worse Assassins than yourself," I said.
Chapter 35

- Explorers of Gor -
 
59 - “He is white,” said a man nearby. “Only those in Schendi might hire such a killer. They are familiar with the sleen of the north.”
Chapter 19

- Mercenaries of Gor -

60 - One might think then in terms of the possible transmission of secret information, or, perhaps more likely, of the enterprise of the assassin, the covert business of unsheathed daggers.
Chapter 25

- Magicians of Gor -

61 - More than one triumph in a Gorean city has been spoiled by the bolt of an assassin.
Chapter 6

62 - "But perhaps," said he, "we have no intention of taking you from the city."
    "What?" she said, frightened, lifting her head again with difficulty and regarding him.
    Her eyes went to the dagger at his belt. His fingers were upon it. "No!" she said. "Surely you are not assassins!"
    He merely looked at her, his hands on the hilt of the dagger.
    "Surely you do not intend to kill me!" she cried.
    He regarded her, not speaking.
    "Do not kill me!" she wept. It was not irrational on her part, of course, to fear an assassination plot. Even if she believed herself generally popular within the city, perhaps even much loved within it, she would realize that these sentiments might not be universal. For example, the increasing resistance to Cosian rule in the city, the growing  insurgency, the actions of the Delta Brigade, would surely have given her cause for apprehension, if not genuine alarm. "Surely," she said, "I have not become a slave, simply to be slain?"
Chapter 26

 - Witness of Gor -

63 – "They wish to take custody of the prisoner," said the
officer. "I am sure of it."
"It will be a brief custody, I am sure," said the pit master.
"He is to be removed to Cos," said the officer.
"He will never reach Cos," said the pit master.
"I have heard he is to be removed to Cos," said the officer,
firmly.
"Why Assassins?" asked the pit master. "Why those of the black caste?"
    "Efficiency, anonymity," said the officer.
Chapter 30

64 - "We can kill every male prisoner in the depths," said one of
the fellows in black, a lieutenant.
"You have no authorization for that," said the pit master.
"You know whom we seek," said the leader of the men in
black tunics. There were twenty-three in their party, the
leader, a lieutenant, the fellow called 'Gito', and twenty men.
Each of the twenty men carried a sword, a dagger, and a
crossbow. Some had their bows set.
Chapter 31

65 - "Cut their throats," said the leader of the strangers.
We cried out, and shrank back, and might have run, but
there was nowhere to run. Men were all about. One fellow
took me by the hair, to hold me in place.
"Hold!" said the pit master. "Know that these women are
the property of the state of Treve! You are within the walls of
Treve. You are sheltered by her Home Stone. You cannot deal
with the property of Treve with impunity."
"You have delayed us long enough," snarled the leader of
the black-tunicked men. "We came yesterday to the pits, and
you put us off with some absurd technicality."
"We have our regulations, Master," said the pit master.
"That technicality was cleared this morning," said the
leader of the strangers.
Chapter 31

66 - The men in the black tunics who had remained
overnight in the quarters of the pit master, including their leader and his lieutenant, seemed to me strange fellows. They
were much unlike many, if not most, of the men of this world.
They did not laugh, they did not joke, they did not tell stories.
They were silent, frightening, terrible men. I do not think they
had Home Stones. If they had some loyalty, and I do not
doubt they did, I think it was rather to some bloody oath, or
dark covenant, or even to a leader. They attended to their
equipment, they sharpened their swords. They drank only
water. They ate sparingly. The hospitality of the pit master,
offering us to them, was declined. Even the women chained
at the wall were not touched. We were, however, denied our
blankets, and we must all be chained, even those in the
kennels. One of the girls at the wall, Tissia, I do not know
what she had done, was savagely kicked by one of the blacktunicked
fellows. "Temptress!" he denounced her. She wept
and crawled away from him, pressing herself against the wall
in her chains. I supposed we were all temptresses, all women.
But I could not understand the meaningless savagery of his
rejection of her. How different it was from the average
response of the average man of this world. The men of this
world delight in our femaleness, and in its joyous subjugation,
in owning and mastering it. They prize our softness, our
beauty, our desirability. And it does not occur to them, in this
natural world, to conceal their desires to relate to it in the
order of nature, as a dominant sex to one whose biological
calling it is to delight, to please, and obey. But these men,
these men in dark tunics, were so different! They had us
naked in our chains, but then they ignored us. It was no
wonder that we drew back in our kennels, and huddled against the wall. Such treatment made us feel small, and
ashamed of our beauty. But then perhaps these men had
other concerns, concerns which took priority over the curves
of chained bond-sluts. Perhaps when their business was done
we, or such as we, might be recollected. Perhaps we might
then, nude, serve them their food and drink, diffidently. I
would fear to serve such men.

67 - This morning, before they left the quarters of the pit master each had, in turn, turned away from us, then being anointed, or something, by one of his fellows. Each, following this ritual, had then donned his helmet.

68 - “You are a brave man,” said he, “to trifle with those of the black caste.”
Chapter 31

69 - "But Captain," said the lieutenant. "Should we not call
Gito?"
Chapter 31

70 - "Then it will not matter that he is killed," said the leader of
the black-tunicked men.
The lieutenant and several of the others with them
laughed. It was the only time I had heard them laugh.
Chapter 31

71 - “I am not fond of those of the black caste,” said the officer.
“Nor we of those of the scarlet caste,” said the leader.
Chapter 31

72 - The leader of the strangers smiled. He lifted his hand.
Chapter 31

73 - "The sleen will finish him, in the morning," said a man.
Chapter 36

74 - “Those of the black caste are famed for their prowess in hunting,” said the officer of Treve.
Chapter 37

75 - "Certainly not," said the officer of Treve. "He wanted the officer to know that he was still alive, that was the point of that, in order that the assassin be tensely ready, that he be extremely watchful and alert, and that the preciousness of his quarrel be fully appreciated. He might have but one chance to loose it. He must retain it for the prefect shot. He must in no event waste it."
Chapter 37