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She stood haughtily beside the Tatrix, the expressionless silver mask gleaming down at me, hideous in the torchlight it reflected. - (Outlaw of Gor, Chapter 11, Sentence #51)

"We of Tharna," said the Tatrix, "think so little of riches that we use them to yoke slaves". My angry glare told her that I did not consider myself a slave. From the curule chair beside the throne rose another woman, wearing an intricately wrought silver mask and magnificent robes of rich silver cloth. She stood haughtily beside the Tatrix, the expressionless silver mask gleaming down at me, hideous in the torchlight it reflected. Speaking to the Tatrix, but not turning the mask from me, she said, "Destroy the animal". It was a cold, ringing voice, clear, decisive, authoritative. "Does the law of Tharna not give it the right to speak, Dorna the Proud, Second in Tharna?" asked the Tatrix, whose voice, too, was imperious and cold, yet pleased me more than the tones of she who wore the silver mask. - (Outlaw of Gor)