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But when I, half paralyzed and crippled, had left the shore of Thassa I had left behind me a beacon, a mighty beacon formed from the logs of the stockade of Sarus, and it had blazed behind me, visible for more than fifty pasangs at sea. I did not know why I had set the beacon, but I had done so. It had burned, long and fiery in the Gorean night, on the stones of the beach, and then, in the morning it would have been ashes, and the winds and rains would have scattered them, and there would be little left, save the stones, the sand and the prints of the feet of sea birds, tiny, like the thief's brand, in the sand. But it would once have burned, and that was fixed, undeniable, a part of what had been, that it had burned; nothing could change that, not the eternities of time, not the will of priest-kings, the machinations of Others, the willfulness and hatred of men; nothing could change that it had been, that once on the beach, there, a beacon had burned. I wondered how men should live. In my chair I had thought long on such matters. I knew only that I did not know the answer to this question. - (Marauders of Gor, Chapter )