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"You make a very poor spy, Tarl Cabot," she said. "Dina of Turia!" I cried. * * * * I stayed four days in the rooms above the shop of Dina of Turia. There I dyed my hair black and exchanged the robes of the merchant for the yellow and brown tunic of the Bakers, to which caste her father and two brothers had belonged. Downstairs the wooden screens that had separated the shop from the street had been splintered apart; the counter had been broken and the ovens ruined, their oval domes shattered, their iron doors twisted from their hinges; even the top stones on the two grain mills had been thrown to the floor and broken. At one time, I gathered from Dina, her father's shop had been the most famed of the baking shops of Turia, most of which are owned by Saphrar of Turia, whose interests range widely, though operated naturally, as Gorean custom would require, by members of the caste of Bakers. Her father had refused to sell the shop to Saphrar's agents, and take his employment under the merchant. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter )