Assassins

He wore the black helmet of a member of the Caste of Assassins.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 133 | Chapter: 11:21

I had noticed that there was among the crowd one tall, somber figure who sat alone on a high, wooden throne, surrounded by tarnsmen. He wore the black helmet of a member of the Caste of Assassins.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 133 | Chapter: 11:21

I cleared my head as best I could, and into my uncertain field of vision moved a dark object, which became the black helmet of a member of the Caste of Assassins. Slowly, with a stylized movement, the helmet was lifted, and I found myself staring up into a gray, lean, cruel face, a face that might have been made of metal. The eyes were inscrutable, as if they had been of glass or stone and set artificially in that metallic mask of a countenance.
"I am Pa-Kur," said the man.
It was he, the Master Assassin of Ar, leader of the assembled horde.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 136 | Chapter: 12:4-6

...his small eyes fastened to the red and yellow squares of the board. .... one of the pieces of the hundred-squared board, a centered Tarnsman. He touched it, committing himself to moving it. A brief exchange followed, like a chain reaction, neither man considering his moves for a moment, First Tarnsman took First Tarnsman, Second Spearman responded by neutralizing First Tarnsman, City neutralized Spearman, Assassin took City, Assassin fell to Second Tarnsman, Tarnsman to Spear Slave, Spear Slave to Spear Slave.
Mintar relaxed on the cushions. "You have taken the City," he said, "but not the Home Stone." His eyes gleamed with pleasure. "I permitted that, in order that I might capture the Spear Slave. Let us now adjudicate the game. The Spear Slave gives me the point I need, a small point but decisive."
Marlenus smiled, rather grimly. "But position must figure in any adjudication," he said. Then, with an imperious gesture, Marlenus swept his Ubarinto the file opened by the movement of Mintar's capturing Spear Slave. It covered the Home Stone.
Mintar bowed his head in mock ceremony, a wry smile on his fat face, and with one short finger delicately tipped his own Ubar, causing it to fall.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 169-170 | Chapter: 15:37-40

"On the highest ground in camp," said Mintar, "near the second ditch and across from the great gate of Ar. You will see the black banner of the Caste of Assassins."
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 175 | Chapter: 15:102

I dyed my hair black and acquired the helmet and gear of an Assassin. Across the left temple of the black helmet I fixed the golden slash of the messenger. In this disguise I freely wandered about the camp, observing the siege operations, the appointment of the compounds, the marshaling of the troops.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 176-177 | Chapter: 16:2

There, on a hillock overlooking the palisades that rimmed the rampart to the ditch, I saw the wall of black silk that surrounded the compound of Pa-Kur. Inside were the dozens of tents that formed the quarters for his personal retinue and bodyguard. Above them, at several places, flew the black banner of the Caste of Assassins."
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 182 | Chapter: 16:34

...put on the heavy black helmet of the Assassin...
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 182 | Chapter: 16:34

It was as a warrior of Gor that I arose and donned the black helmet and the garments of the Caste of Assassins. I loosened my sword in its sheath, set my shield on my arm, and grasped my spear. My steps were determined when I left the tent. I strode meaningfully to the great tarn cot at the entrance to Mintar's compound and demanded my tarn.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 190 | Chapter: 17:20

No one ventured to repel me. All were silent. I wore the garb of the Caste of Assassins, and on the left temple of the black helmet was the golden slash of the messenger.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 192 | Chapter: 18:3

And, dark among these shapes, like shadows, I could see the somber black of members of the Caste of Assassins.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 204 | Chapter: 19:9

The Supreme Initiate turned and faced me, pointing that long skeletal finger.
"Die the Flame Death," he said.
I had heard of the Flame Death from my father and from the Older Tarl - that legendary fate which overtook those who had transgressed the will of the Priest-Kings. I knew almost nothing of the fabled Priest-Kings, but I did know that something of the sort must exist, for I had been brought to Gor by an advanced technology, and I knew that some force or power lay in the mysterious Sardar Mountains. I did not believe that the Priest-Kings were divine, but I did believe that they lived and that they were aware of what occurred on Gor and that from time to time they made known their will. I did not even know if they were human or nonhuman, but, whatever they might be, they were, with their advanced science and technology, for all practical purposes, the gods of this world.
....
"Die the Flame Death," repeated the old man, once again jabbing that long finger in my direction. But this time the gesture was less grand; it seemed a bit hysterical; it seemed pathetic.
"Perhaps no man knows the will of the Priest-Kings," I said.
"I have decreed the death of the girl," cried the old man wildly, his robes fluttering around his bondy knees. "Kill her!" he shouted to the men of Ar.
No one moved. Then, before anyone could stop him, he seized a sword from the scabbard of an Assassin and rushed to Talena, holding it over his head with both hands. He wobbled hysterically, his eyes mad, his mouth slobbering, his faith in the Priest-Kings shattered, and with it his mind. He wavered over the girl, ready to kill.
"No!" cried one of the Initiates. "It is forbidden!"
Heedlessly, the insane old man tensed for the blow that would end the life of the girl. But in that instant he seemed to be concealed in a bluish haze, and then, suddenly, to the horror of all, he seemed, like a living bomb, to explode with fire. Not even a scream came from that fierce blue combustive mass that had been a human being, and in a minute the flame had departed, almost as quickly as it had come, and a dust of ashes scattered from the top of the cylinder in the wind.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 206-208 | Chapter: 19:30-39

Those members of the Caste of Assassins, the most hated caste on Gor, who had served Pa-Kur, were taken in chains down the Vosk to become galley slaves on the cargo ships that ply Gor's oceans.
Tarnsman of Gor pgs: 215 | Chapter: 20:2

He seemed to be struggling with himself, as though he wanted to speak his own words and not those of the Priest-Kings. He seemed to shake with pain, his hands pressed against his head, trying to speak to me, trying to tell me something. One hand stretched out to me, and the words, his own, far from the ringing authority of his former tones, were hoarse and almost inaudible.
"Tarl of Ko-ro-ba," he said, "throw yourself upon your sword."
He seemed ready to fall, and I held him.
He looked into my eyes. "Throw yourself upon your sword," he begged.
"Would that not frustrate the will of the Priest-Kings?" I asked.
"Yes," said he.
"Why do you tell me this?" I demanded.
"I followed you at the siege of Ar," he said. "On the Cylinder of Justice I fought with you against Pa-Kur and his assassins."
"An Initiate?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No," he said, "I was one of the guards of Ar, and I fought to save my city."
"Ar the Glorious," I said, speaking gently.
He was dying.
"Ar the Glorious," he said, weak, but with pride. He looked at me again. "Die now, Tarl of Ko-ro-ba," he said, "Hero of Ar." His eyes seemed to begin to burn in his head. "Do not shame yourself."
Suddenly he howled like a tortured dog, and what happened then I cannot bring myself to describe in detail. It seemed as though the entire inside of his head began to burst and burn, to bubble like some horrid vicious lava inside the crater of his skull.
It was an ugly death - his for having tried to speak to me, for having tried to tell me what was in his heart.
...I removed the hated robes of the Initiates from the body of the man and carried the naked body far from the road.
As I began to cover it with rocks, I noted the remains of the skull, now little more than a handful of shards. The brain had been literally boiled away. The morning light flashed briefly on something golden among the white shards. I lifted it. It was a webbing of fine golden wire. I could make nothing of it, and threw it aside.
Outlaw of Gor pgs: 43-44 | Chapter: 5:54-70

"Since the siege of Ar, when Pa-Kur, Master Assassin, had violated the limits of his caste and had presumed, in contradiction to the traditions of Gor, to lead a horde upon the city, intending to make himself Ubar, the Caste of Assassins had lived as hated, hunted men, no longer esteemed mercenaries whose services were sought by cities, and, as often by factions within cities.
Outlaw of Gor pgs: 72

"But I am of the Caste of Warriors," I said, "of a high city and we do not stain our spears for the stones of men not, even such stones as these." The Paravaci was speechless. "You dare to tempt me," I said, feigning anger, "as if I beyond the dreams of a man, were of the Caste of Assassins or a common thief with his dagger in the night." I frowned at him. "Beware," I warned, "lest I take your words as insult."
Nomads of Gor pgs: 20-21

These men of Ko-ro-ba, he knew, when their city had been destroyed by Priest-Kings, had been scattered to the ends of Gor but, when permitted by Priest-Kings, they had returned to their city to rebuild it, each bearing a stone to add to its walls. It was said, in the time of troubles, that the Home Stone had not been lost, and it had not. And even Kuurus, of the Caste of Assassins, knew that a city cannot die while its Home Stone survives.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 2

For years the black of the Assassins had been outlawed in the city. Pa-Kur, who had been Master of the Assassins, had led a league of tributary cities to attack Imperial Ar in the time when its Home Stone had been stolen and its Ubar forced to flee. The city had fallen and Pa-Kur, though of low caste, had aspired to inherit the imperial mantle of Marlenus, had dared to lift his eyes to the throne of Empire and place about his neck the golden medallion of a Ubar, a thing forbidden to such as he in the myths of the Counter-Earth. Pa-Kur’s horde had been defeated by an alliance of free cities, led by Ko-ro-ba and Thentis, under the command of Matthew Cabot of Ko-ro-ba, the father of Tarl of Bristol, and Kazrak of Port Kar, sword brother of the same Warrior. Tarl of Bristol himself on the windy height of Ar’s Cylinder of Justice had defeated Pa-Kur, Master Assassins. From that time the black of the Assassins had not been seen in the streets of Glorious Ar.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 6

"Yet none would stand in the way of Kuurus for he wore on his forehead, small and fine, the black dagger.
When he of the caste of Assassins has been paid his gold and has received his charge he affixes on his forehead that sign, that he may enter whatever city he pleases, that none may interfere with his work.
There are few men who have done great wrong or who have powerful, rich enemies who do not tremble upon learning that one has been brought to their city who wears the dagger."
Assassin of Gor pgs: 6-7

The Assassin turned to the man in a black apron, a fat, grimy man, who wore a soiled tunic of white and gold, stained with sweat and spilled paga.
"Collar," said the Assassin.
The man took a key from a line of hooks on the wall behind him.
"Seven," he said, throwing the Assassin the key.
The Assassin caught the key and taking the girl by the arm led her to a dark wall, in a low-ceilinged corner of the sloping room. She moved woodenly, as though numb. Her eyes seemed frightened.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 8

"Welcome, Killer," said the man, addressing the Assassin by what, for that caste, is a title of respect.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 14

" 'For whom do you wear on your forehead the mark of the black dagger?' queried Portus discreetly.
Kuurus said nothing.
'Perhaps I could tell you where to find him,' proposed Portus.
'I will find him,' said Kuurus.
'Of course,' said Portus. 'Of course.' The heavy man, sitting cross-legged, opposite the Assassin, began to sweat, fiddled with the damp blue and yellow silk covering his knee, and then with a nervous hand lifted a shaking bowl of paga to his lips, spilling some down the side of his face, 'I meant no harm,' he said.
'You are alive,' said Kuurus.
'May I ask, Killer,' asked Portus, 'if you come to make the first killing--or the second?'
'The second,' said Kuurus.
'Ah!' said Portus.
'I hunt,' said Kuurus.
'Of course,' said Portus.
'I come to avenge,' said Kuurus.
Portus smiled. 'That is what I meant,' he said, 'that it is good those in the black tunic are once again amongst us, that justice can be done, order restored, right upheld.'
Kuurus looked at him, the eyes not smiling. 'There is only gold and steel,' said he.
'Of course,' hastilly agreed Portus. 'That is very true.' "
Assassin of Gor pgs: 18

"It was a throwing knife, of a sort used in Ar, much smaller than the southern quiva, and tapered on only one side. It was a knife designed for killing. Mixed with the blood and fluids of the body there was a smear of white at the end of the steel, the softened residue of a glaze of kanda paste, now melted by body heat, which had coated the tip of the blade. On the hilt of the dagger, curling about it, was the legend, 'I have sought him. I have found him.'It was a killing knife.
'The Caste of Assassins?' I had asked.
'Unlikely,' had said the Older Tarl, 'for Assassins are commonly too proud for poison.'"
Assassin of Gor pgs: 42

"Exotics are normally bred for some deformity which is thought to be appealing. On the other hand, sometimes the matter is much more subtle and sinister. For example it is possible to breed a girl whose saliva will be poisonous; such a woman, placed in the Pleasure Garden of an enemy, can be more dangerous than the knife of an Assassin."
Assassin of Gor pgs: 150

Sura turned to Ho-Tu. “The Tuchuk girl,” she said, “keeps quarters with the Assassin. I do not object. Take the others to cells of Red Silk.”
“They are White Silk,” said Ho-Tu.
Sura laughed. “Very well,” she said, “to cells of White Silk. Feed them well. You have almost crippled them. How you expect me to train crippled barbarians I am not clear.”
Assassin of Gor pgs: 154

This was prior to the death of the Warrior of Thentis, who resembled me, which had given me independent reason for coming to Ar, and in the guise of an Assassin.
Assassin of Gor pgs: 178

Lysias had been client to the house of Sevarius, it was said, for five years, a period coterminous with the regency of Claudius, who had assumed the power of the house following the assassination of Henrius Sevarius the Fourth.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 129

I sing the siege of Ar, of gleaming Ar.
I sing the spears and walls of Ar, of Glorious Ar.
In the long years past of the siege of the city the siege of Ar of her spires and towers of undaunted Ar, Glorious Ar. I sing.
I sing of dark-haired Talena of the rage of Marlenus Ubar of Ar, Glorious Ar.
And of he I sing whose hair was like a larl from the sun of he who came once to the walls of Ar, Glorious Ar , he called Tarl of Bristol.

And, as the torches burned lower in the wall racks, the singer continued to sing, and sang of gray Pa-Kur, Master of the Assassins, leader of the hordes that fell on Ar after the theft of her Home Stone; and he sang, too, of banners and black helmets, of upraised standards, of the sun flashing on the lifted blades of spears, of high siege towers and deeds, of catapults of Ka-la-na and tem-wood, of the thunder of war tharlarion and the beatings of drums and the roars of trumpets, the clash of arms and the cries of men; and he sang, too, of the love of men for their city, and, foolishly, knowing so little of men, he sang, too, the bravery of men, and their loyalties and their courage; and he sang then, too, of duels; of duels fought even on the walls of Ar herself, even at the great gate; and of tarnsmen locked in duels to the death over the spires of Ar; and yet another duel, one fought on the height of Ar's cylinder of justice, between Pak-Kur, and he, in the song, called Tarl of Bristol.
Raiders of Gor pgs: 225-226

Already, only some years ago, Ar had tasted the bitterness of enemies within her walls, when, in the political confusion following the temporary loss of her Home Stone and the deposition of her Ubar, Marlenus, there had been a revolt of tributary cities, organized and led by Pa-Kur, Master of the Caste of Assassins. The horde of Pa-Kur, as it is spoken of, had set siege to glorious Ar. Initiates, inept and cowardly, then holding power in Ar, had surrendered the city, an act which to this day in Ar has tended to damage the prestige of that caste. On the day of Ar’s surrender itself was she saved, by the uprising of her very citizens, violent in the streets, abetted by the forces of certain cities of the north, notably Ko-ro-ba and Thentis.
Slave Girl of Gor pgs: 145

"His (would be Assassin) head now lay half severed, blood on the peasants sandals. Gorean men are not patient with such as he."
Beasts of Gor pgs: 102

The sword of the warrior, commonly, is pledged to a Home Stone, that of the assassin to gold and the knife.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 136

Little love is lost betwixt the castes of warriors and assassins. Each deems himself the superior of, and the natural foe, of the other. The sword of the warrior, commonly, is pledged to a Home Stone, that of the assassin to gold and the knife.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 136

"I see you are not of the assassins," I said. It is a matter of pride for members of that caste to avoid the use of poisoned steel. Too, their codes forbid it.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 141

The assassins take in lads who are perhaps characterized by little but unusual swiftness, and cunning, and strength and skill, and perhaps a selfishness and greed, and, in time, transform this raw material into efficient, proud, merciless men, practitioners of a dark trade, men loyal to secret codes the content of which is something at which most men dare not guess.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 358

He seemed slow. But I knew he did not come to his somber garb by any tardiness of action or hesitancy in deed. The training of the assassin is thorough and cruel. He who wears the black of that caste has not won it easily. Candidates for the caste are chosen with great care, and only one in ten, it is said, completes the course of instruction to the satisfaction of the caste masters. It is assumed that failed candidates are slain, if not in the training, for secrets they may have learned. Withdrawal from the caste is not permitted. Training proceeds in pairs, each pair against others. Friendship is encouraged. Then, in the final training, each member of the pair must hunt the other. When one has killed one’s friend one is then likely to better understand the meaning of the black. When one has killed one’s friend one is then unlikely to find mercy in his heart for another. One is then alone, with gold and steel.
I looked at Drusus.
The assassins take in lads who are perhaps characterized by little but unusual swiftness, and cunning, and strength and skill, and perhaps a selfishness and greed, and, in time, transform this raw material into efficient, proud, merciless men, practitioners of a dark trade, men loyal to secret codes the content of which is something at which most men dare not guess.
Drusus was looking at me.
I kept in mind he had survived the training of the assassin.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 358

“Assassins, as I recall,” I said, “have no Home Stones. I suppose that is a drawback to caste membership, but if you did have Home Stones, it might be difficult to take fees on one whose Home Stone you shared.”
Beasts of Gor pgs: 359

“But you are of the Assassins,” I said.
“We are tenacious fellows,” he smiled.
“I have heard that,” I said.
“Do you think that only Warriors are men?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I have never been of that opinion.”
“Let us proceed,” he said.
“I thought you were too weak to be an Assassin,” I said.
“I was once strong enough to defy the dictates of my caste,” he said. “I was once strong enough to spare my friend, though I feared that in doing this I would myself be killed.”
“Perhaps you are the strongest of the dark-caste,” I said.
He shrugged.
“Let us see who can fight better,” I said.
“Our training is superior to yours,” he said.
“I doubt that,” I said. “But we do not get much training dropping poison into people’s drinks.”
“Assassins are not permitted poison,” he said proudly.
“I know,” I said.
“The Assassin,” he said, “is like a musician, a surgeon. The Warrior is like a butcher. He is a ravaging, bloodthirsty lout.”
“There is much to what you say,” I granted him. “But Assassins are such arid fellows. Warriors are more genial, more enthusiastic.”
“An Assassin goes in and does his job, and comes out quietly,” he said. “Warriors storm buildings and burn towers.”
“It is true that I would rather clean up after an Assassin than a Warrior,” I said.
Beasts of Gor pgs: 412-413

Maximus Hegesius Quintilius was later found assassinated in his own pleasure gardens, slain there by the bite of a chemically prepared poison girl, one killed by Taurentians before she could be questioned.
Mercenaries of Gor pgs: 246

"More than one triumph in a Gorean city has been spoiled by the bolt of an assassin."
Magicians of Gor pgs: 90