By John Norman
Welcome to Gor, a parallel Earth the place social norms are unique and how of existence is brutal. within the 5th ebook within the Gorean Saga, the lethal murderer Kuurus is cause on a bloody project of vengeance. His experience takes him from the caste of the pleasure-slaves, who're conscientiously knowledgeable within the principles and strategies of sexual ecstasy, to the brutal arenas the place people perform lethal hand-to-hand wrestle. He witnesses violence, clash, and uncertainty, because the population of Counter-Earth are pressured to confront their destinies . . . irrespective of how exalted or debased.
Rediscover this brilliantly imagined international the place males are masters and girls stay to serve their each wish.
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Extra resources for Assassin of Gor (Gorean Saga, Book 5)
His lord's rage ebbing, but slowly, trickling down like the rain. Blood leaked from a sword wound in Anomander's left shoul¬der. And there had been a look in his eyes . , Endest sighed as he worked his way up the street's slope, but it was an uneven, harsh sigh. Off to his left was the heaped rubble of the old palace. A few jagged walls rose here and there, and crews had carved paths into the mass of wreckage, salvaging stone and the occasional timber that had not burned. The deafening col¬lapse of that edifice still shivered in Endest's bones, and he slowed in his climb, one hand reaching Out to lean against a wall.
Facing the crystal window that ran the entire length of the Nightwater wall, his long silver-white hair faintly luminous in the muted, refracted light cast into the room by the faceted quartz. The sword Dragnipur was nowhere in sight. Three steps into the chamber and Spinnock halted. ' 'You won again, Lord. ' Spinnock smiled wryly. 'When all else seems lost. ' Perhaps Anomander Rake nodded at that, or his gaze, fixed somewhere out on the waves of Nightwater, shifted downward to something closer by.
Am I not the last one left to share with my lord that memory! The pressure slowly eased. And once again, he had survived the embrace. And the next time? There was no telling, but he did not believe he could last much longer. The pain clutching his chest, the thunder in his skull. We have found a new supply of cadaver eels. That is what I will tell him. And he will smile and nod, and perhaps settle one hand on my shoulder. A gentle, cautious squeeze, light enough to ensure that nothing breaks. He will speak his gratitude.