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That night I took Talena into the City of Tents, and by the light of torches set on lances we walked arm in arm through the crowded streets, among the colorful tents and market stalls. - (Tarnsman of Gor, Chapter 11, Sentence #42)

"Tonight," she said, "let us drink wine". It was a Gorean expression, a fatalistic maxim in which the events of the morrow were cast into the laps of the Priest-Kings. "Let us drink wine," I agreed. That night I took Talena into the City of Tents, and by the light of torches set on lances we walked arm in arm through the crowded streets, among the colorful tents and market stalls. Not only warriors were in evidence, but tradesmen and artisans, peddlers and peasants, camp women and slaves. Talena clung to my arm, fascinated. We watched in one stall a bronzed giant apparently swallowing balls of fire, in the next a silk merchant crying the glories of his cloth, in another a hawker of paga; in still another we watched the swaying bodies of dancing slave girls as their master proclaimed their rent price. - (Tarnsman of Gor)