Book 4. (1 results) Nomads of Gor (Individual Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 26 | 363 | "Remember Kutaituchik," said Kamchak, and the filamentous fibers about the merchant's legs and ankles drew him slowly downward. |
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Book 4. (7 results) Nomads of Gor (Context Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 26 | 360 | The fluid now had reached Saphrar's chin and his head was back to try and keep his nose and mouth above the surface. |
| 26 | 361 | His head shook with horror. |
| 26 | 362 | "Please!" he cried once more, the syllable lost in the bubbling yellow mass that reached into his mouth. |
| 26 | 363 | "Remember Kutaituchik," said Kamchak, and the filamentous fibers about the merchant's legs and ankles drew him slowly downward. |
| 26 | 364 | Some bubbles broke the surface. |
| 26 | 365 | Then the merchant's hands, still extended as though to grasp the vines overhead, with their scarlet fingernails, the robes eaten away from the flesh, disappeared beneath the sparkling, glistening surface. |
| 26 | 366 | We stood silently there for a time, until Kamchak saw small, white bones, like bleached driftwood, rocking on the sparkling, now watery surface, being moved bit by bit, almost as if by tides, to the edge of the pool, where I gathered attendants would normally collect and discard them. |
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The fluid now had reached Saphrar's chin and his head was back to try and keep his nose and mouth above the surface.
His head shook with horror.
"Please!" he cried once more, the syllable lost in the bubbling yellow mass that reached into his mouth.
"Remember Kutaituchik," said Kamchak, and the filamentous fibers about the merchant's legs and ankles drew him slowly downward.
Some bubbles broke the surface.
Then the merchant's hands, still extended as though to grasp the vines overhead, with their scarlet fingernails, the robes eaten away from the flesh, disappeared beneath the sparkling, glistening surface.
We stood silently there for a time, until Kamchak saw small, white bones, like bleached driftwood, rocking on the sparkling, now watery surface, being moved bit by bit, almost as if by tides, to the edge of the pool, where I gathered attendants would normally collect and discard them.
- (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 26)