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Who knew with which people the object might have been placed? Perhaps it had been hidden away and forgotten? Perhaps it was now a sacred object, little understood, but revered—and it would be sacrilege to think of it, blasphemy to speak its name, a cruel and slow death even to cast one's eyes upon it. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 2, Sentence #37)

I would say little or nothing. The object might not even be with the Wagon Peoples any longer. And there were four Wagon Peoples, the Paravaci, the Kataii, the Kassars, and the dreaded Tuchuks. Who knew with which people the object might have been placed? Perhaps it had been hidden away and forgotten? Perhaps it was now a sacred object, little understood, but revered—and it would be sacrilege to think of it, blasphemy to speak its name, a cruel and slow death even to cast one's eyes upon it. And if I should manage to seize it, how could I carry it away? I had no tarn, one of Gor's fierce saddlebirds; I had not even the monstrous high tharlarion, used as the mounts of shock cavalry by the warriors of some cities. I was afoot, on the treeless southern plains of Gor, on the Plains of Turia, in the Land of the Wagon Peoples. The Wagon Peoples, it is said, slay strangers. - (Nomads of Gor)