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I was only partly cognizant of these things, for I was overcome with grief, kneeling in Saphrar's audience hall before the shards of the shattered golden sphere. I was conscious of Kamchak now standing near to me, and behind him Harold. Unabashed I wept. It was not only that I had failed, that what I had fought for had now vanished, become ashes—not only that the war of priest-kings, in which I had played a prominent part, fought long before over such matters, had now become fruitless, meaningless—that my friend Misk's life and its purpose would now be shattered—even that this world and perhaps Earth itself might now, undefended, fall in time to the mysterious Others—but that what lay in the egg itself, the innocent victim of intrigues which had lasted centuries and might perhaps bring worlds into conflict, was dead—it had done nothing to warrant such a fate; the child, so to speak, of priest-kings, what could have become the Mother, was now dead. I shook with sobs, not caring. I heard, vaguely, someone say, "Saphrar and Ha-Keel have fled". Near me Kamchak said, quietly, "Release the sleen. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter )