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And, within, from extensions of certain of the tent poles, there hung, on hooks, burning tharlarion-oil lamps of brass. - (Captive of Gor, Chapter 14, Sentence #213)

Cities and men, I thought, are so strange, so different. I suspected there were few men as fierce and terrible as those of Treve, dreaded throughout Gor, and yet they enjoyed their wine warmed and were fond of so simple a thing as smoothing the hair of a girl. Inside, the tent was floored with heavy, soft rugs, from Tor and Ar, perhaps the booty of caravan raids. And, within, from extensions of certain of the tent poles, there hung, on hooks, burning tharlarion-oil lamps of brass. It was a bit chilly tonight. And it was growing dark now. The interior of the tent seemed inviting, redly warm and dark. - (Captive of Gor)