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But later, shortly after the completion of their journey, in a war between their cities, each had in battle slain the other, and thus among men, save perhaps for some among the Wagon Peoples, the secret had been lost. It was only in the Sardar Mountains that I had learned the nature of their mission, and what it was that they had carried. Now I supposed that I alone, of humans on Gor, with the possible exception of some among the Wagon Peoples, knew the nature of the mysterious object which once these two brave men had brought in secrecy to the plains of Turia—and, to be truthful, I did not know that even I—should I see it—would know it for what I sought. Could I—Tarl Cabot, a human and mortal, find this object and, as priest-kings now wished, return it to the Sardar—return it to the hidden courts of priest-kings that it might there fulfill its unique and irreplaceable role in the destiny of this barbaric world—Gor, our Counter-Earth? I did not know. What is this object? One might speak of it as many things, the subject of secret, violent intrigues; the source of vast strifes beneath the Sardar, strifes unknown to the men of Gor; the concealed, precious, hidden hope of an incredible and ancient race; a simple germ; a bit of living tissue; the dormant potentiality of a people's rebirth, the seed of gods—an egg—the last and only egg of priest-kings. But why was it I who came? Why not priest-kings in their ships and power, with their fierce weapons and fantastic devices? priest-kings cannot stand the sun. They are not as men and men, seeing them, would fear them. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter )