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Thus it is that I perhaps move in the patterns of priest-kings—that perhaps I pledge my vengeance and set out for the Sardar as they knew that I would, as they had calculated and understood and planned. But even so I tell myself that it is still I who move myself, and not priest-kings, even though I might move in their patterns; if it is their intention that I should demand an accounting, it is my intention as well; if it is their game, it is also mine. But why would priest-kings desire Tarl Cabot to come to their mountains? He is nothing to them, nothing to any man; he is only a warrior, a man with no city to call his own, thus an outlaw. Could priest-kings, with their knowledge and power, have need of such a man? But priest-kings need nothing from men, and once more my thoughts grow foolish. It is time to put aside the pen. I regret only that none return from the Sardar, for I have loved life. And on this barbaric world I have seen it in all its beauty and cruelty, in all its glory and sadness. - (Outlaw of Gor, Chapter )