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I swept Vika again to my arms and, half walking, half floating, made my way downward toward the ruins of the gate. - (Priest-Kings of Gor, Chapter 33, Sentence #15)

I supposed there might have been men from almost all of Gor's cities in that frightened, teeming throng. In the front, several deep, in lines that extended as far as I could see in both directions, were the white robes of the Initiates. Even from where we stood I could smell the innumerable fires of their sacrifices, the burning flesh of bosks, smell the heady fumes of the incense they burned in brass censers swinging on chains, hear the repetitious litanies of their pleas, observe their continual prostrations and grovelings by which they sought to make themselves and their petitions pleasing to Priest-Kings. I swept Vika again to my arms and, half walking, half floating, made my way downward toward the ruins of the gate. There was a great shout from the crowd when they saw us, and then there was enormous quiet and every pair of eyes in that teeming throng was fixed upon us. It suddenly seemed to me that Vika was a bit heavier than she had been and I told myself that I must be tiring. I descended with Vika from the trail and, as I floated down to the bottom of a small crevice between the trail and the gate, the bottoms of my sandals stung when I hit the rock. - (Priest-Kings of Gor)