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There was not much save my name and city, that I was a Matok under the supervision of Misk, that I had no record-scars and that I might be dangerous. - (Priest-Kings of Gor, Chapter 14, Sentence #87)

I was given a translator by Misk and I would utter Gorean expressions into it and then wait for the translation into the language of the Priest-Kings, and in this way, after a time, I became capable of recognizing numerous meaningful odors. The first odor I came to recognize was Misk's name, and it was delightful to then discover, as I became more practiced and sensitive, that the odor was the same as his own. One of the things I did was run the translator over the red plastic tunic I had been issued and listen to the information which had been recorded on it. There was not much save my name and city, that I was a Matok under the supervision of Misk, that I had no record-scars and that I might be dangerous. I smiled at the latter caution. I did not even have a sword, and I was sure that, in any battle with Priest-Kings, I would constitute but a moment's work for their fierce mandibles and the bladed, hornlike projections on their forelegs. The case which I was to occupy in Misk's chamber was not as bad as I had anticipated. - (Priest-Kings of Gor)