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My wrists pulled futilely against the circles of steel that confined them; I felt the point of a short sword in my back. - (Assassin of Gor, Chapter 19, Sentence #61)

I heard my neck chain being unbolted from the back of the wagon. When it was free I was jerked to my feet and, stumbling in the midst of my guards, was led from the street, around the back of the building, where we entered through a small, private gate. Within, the hood was, to my satisfaction, removed; when the large wad of soured leather was removed from my mouth I threw up against one wall; the guards laughed and struck me; the lights, lamps, though they were feeble, seemed very bright, and ringed with many colors; the hood had been dark and hot and wet, stifling; now even the close, humid air of the Curulean seemed welcome and cold. My wrists pulled futilely against the circles of steel that confined them; I felt the point of a short sword in my back. "This way," said Philemon. We began to walk down a long, slowly bending passageway. I had seen the Curulean from the outside before, but I had never been inside. - (Assassin of Gor)