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The wiliness, the cunning, of a man who had lived more than a thousand years ago made itself felt in its effects a millennium later, in this strange place, deep within the living stone of a great mountain in a bleak country. - (Marauders of Gor, Chapter 16, Sentence #173)

Nothing, it seemed, had been disturbed. Torvald, I conjectured, doubtless as cunning and wise as the legends had made him out, had not elected to have himself interred in his own tomb. It was empty. The wiliness, the cunning, of a man who had lived more than a thousand years ago made itself felt in its effects a millennium later, in this strange place, deep within the living stone of a great mountain in a bleak country. "Where is Torvald?" cried out Ivar Forkbeard. I shrugged. "There is no Torvald," said the Forkbeard. - (Marauders of Gor)