"No one has spoken to you, Slave," remarked Harold.
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"Let me have this one," begged the Paravaci of Saphrar, pointing the tip of his quiva at Harold.
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"Perhaps," said Saphrar.
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Then the little merchant stood up and clapped his hands twice.
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From a side, from a portal which had been concealed behind a hanging, two men-at-arms came forth, followed by two others.
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The first two carried a platform, draped in purple.
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On this platform, nestled in the folds of the purple, I saw the object of my quest—what I had come so far to find—that for which I had risked and, apparently, lost my life—the golden sphere.
"No one has spoken to you, Slave," remarked Harold.
"Let me have this one," begged the Paravaci of Saphrar, pointing the tip of his quiva at Harold.
"Perhaps," said Saphrar.
Then the little merchant stood up and clapped his hands twice.
From a side, from a portal which had been concealed behind a hanging, two men-at-arms came forth, followed by two others.
The first two carried a platform, draped in purple.
On this platform, nestled in the folds of the purple, I saw the object of my quest—what I had come so far to find—that for which I had risked and, apparently, lost my life—the golden sphere.
- (Nomads of Gor, Chapter )