Book 3. (7 results) Priest-Kings of Gor (Context Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 23 | 49 | When I made a turn I would take the hilt of the sword, in order to protect the blade, and scratch a small sign indicating the direction from which I had come. |
| 23 | 50 | It was a long, eerie search, in the blue light of the Mul-Torch, thrusting it into one crevice and another, trying one passage and then the next. |
| 23 | 51 | As I wandered through these passages my sorrow for Vika of Treve struggled with my hatred for the Golden beetle until I forced myself to clear my head of emotion and concentrate on the task at hand. |
| 23 | 52 | But still, as the Mul-Torch burned lower and I yet encountered no sign of the Golden beetle, my thoughts turned ever and again to the still form of Vika lying in the cavern of the Golden beetle. |
| 23 | 53 | It had been weeks since I had last seen her and I supposed it would have been at least days since she had been closed in the tunnels of the Golden beetle. |
| 23 | 54 | How was it that she had been captured only so recently by the creature? And if it were true that she had been captured only recently how would she have managed to live in the caverns for those days? Perhaps she might have found a sump of water but what would there have been to eat, I wondered? Perhaps, I told myself, she, like the Slime Worm, would have been forced to scavenge on the previous kills of the beetle but I found this hard to believe, for the condition of her body did not suggest an ugly, protracted, degrading battle with the worms of starvation. |
| 23 | 55 | And how was it, I asked myself, that the Golden beetle had not already feasted on the delicate flesh of the proud beauty of Treve? And I wondered on the five strange protuberances that nested so grotesquely in her lovely body. |
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When I made a turn I would take the hilt of the sword, in order to protect the blade, and scratch a small sign indicating the direction from which I had come.
It was a long, eerie search, in the blue light of the Mul-Torch, thrusting it into one crevice and another, trying one passage and then the next.
As I wandered through these passages my sorrow for Vika of Treve struggled with my hatred for the Golden beetle until I forced myself to clear my head of emotion and concentrate on the task at hand.
But still, as the Mul-Torch burned lower and I yet encountered no sign of the Golden beetle, my thoughts turned ever and again to the still form of Vika lying in the cavern of the Golden beetle.
It had been weeks since I had last seen her and I supposed it would have been at least days since she had been closed in the tunnels of the Golden beetle.
How was it that she had been captured only so recently by the creature? And if it were true that she had been captured only recently how would she have managed to live in the caverns for those days? Perhaps she might have found a sump of water but what would there have been to eat, I wondered? Perhaps, I told myself, she, like the Slime Worm, would have been forced to scavenge on the previous kills of the beetle but I found this hard to believe, for the condition of her body did not suggest an ugly, protracted, degrading battle with the worms of starvation.
And how was it, I asked myself, that the Golden beetle had not already feasted on the delicate flesh of the proud beauty of Treve? And I wondered on the five strange protuberances that nested so grotesquely in her lovely body.
- (Priest-Kings of Gor, Chapter )