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How could that be? Were the slaves not beautiful enough? I knew that a yearning slave, to one side, lying in her chains, must often await the outcome of such a game There was music in the tavern, a czehar player, a drummer, utilizing the small tabor, two flautists, and a pair of kalika players. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 18, Sentence #361)

In my brief, rep-cloth tunic, kneeling by the table, I felt myself less exhibited than they, in their soft, colorful, swirling silks. I could understand how it was that men would seek the paga taverns. Still, to one side, at more than one table, fellows were intent upon a game of kaissa. How could that be? Were the slaves not beautiful enough? I knew that a yearning slave, to one side, lying in her chains, must often await the outcome of such a game There was music in the tavern, a czehar player, a drummer, utilizing the small tabor, two flautists, and a pair of kalika players. He with the czehar was the leader. That was common, as I was given to understand. I could smell paga, and roast bosk. - (Conspirators of Gor)