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She recalled there had been a bid of fifteen silver tarsks on her even before Mirus and Selius Arconious had entered upon their competition for a slave, the shapely, gray-eyed brunette being displayed and auctioned. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 30, Sentence #368)

"Did he not pay something in the neighborhood of twenty-one tarsks, and of silver, for me?" "Doubtless I muchly, and foolishly, overpaid," he said. "Yes, Master," she agreed. Many girls such as she, she knew, and excellent girls, quality shackle sluts, went for as little as one and a half to three silver tarsks. She recalled there had been a bid of fifteen silver tarsks on her even before Mirus and Selius Arconious had entered upon their competition for a slave, the shapely, gray-eyed brunette being displayed and auctioned. Fifteen silver tarsks, though, she thought, was surely excessive. Much, of course, had to do with the place, the wealth at hand, the number of bidders, the fever of the bidding, and such. "Perhaps your master is a fool," he said. - (Prize of Gor)