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Whereas I have spoken of two hundred tarns and riders, and this seems to me acceptable, it must be understood that, like any military unit, it might, from time to time, be above or below its official strength. - (Swordsmen of Gor, Chapter 16, Sentence #79)

A figure in white was toward the center of the group, and I supposed that must be he. The war horn's blast burst out from beneath me and I saw the cavalry, in its diving, wedgelike, suddenly widening, formation, to allow for a broad front of arrow fire, rank behind rank, deploy. I suppose, to many, certain things might seem dreadful, the blast of the war horn, the thunder of tarn drums, the soaring descent to the attack, the scream of the tarn, the music of the bowstring, blood's lyre, with its song of death, but, too, to some, there is little which so speaks of life as these musics of intent, of risk, and peril, little else which seems to speak so avidly and preciously of life. Whereas I have spoken of two hundred tarns and riders, and this seems to me acceptable, it must be understood that, like any military unit, it might, from time to time, be above or below its official strength. Similarly, I have not included in the two hundred myself, certain subofficers, adjuncts, liaison personnel, and so on. Also, of great importance, but not included in the figure of two hundred, would be various forces on the ground, responsible for support, such as metal and leather workers, fletchers, tarnkeepers, suppliers of various sorts, and so on. I pulled the tarn up, further, and then, briefly, held it almost stationary in the air, drawing back on all the straps simultaneously, the bird then hovering, wings beating fiercely. - (Swordsmen of Gor, Chapter 16)