In Plunder of Gor, John Norman offers an extensive examination of the Caste of Assassins, exploring its origins, professional practices, internal traditions, and place within Gorean society. Through the Black Court of Brundisium and the figure of Tyrtaios, the novel presents the Assassin as a trained professional whose life is shaped by the commission, the fee, specialized skills, and a demanding path of initiation.

The passages explore the tension between the caste’s possible original purpose as a source of justice beyond the boundaries of individual cities and its later reputation as a feared and sometimes unscrupulous organization. Assassins may be employed to pursue fugitives across city borders, settle rivalries, or eliminate those whose presence threatens a client’s interests. Their work is governed less by the Warrior’s ideals of honor and allegiance to a Home Stone than by professional obligations, the demands of the commission, and the protection of the caste’s own position.

The novel also describes the demanding trials through which candidates seek acceptance, including the Nine Steps of Blood, and emphasizes the importance of skill, discipline, secrecy, and the ability to execute a killing cleanly. The black dagger, the crossbow, and other weapons associated with concealed and calculated violence contribute to the caste’s identity, while its courts and members inspire both fear and hostility.

Through these passages, Plunder of Gor presents the Black Caste as more than a collection of killers. It portrays an institution shaped by professional tradition, internal competition, secrecy, and the pursuit of paid work—one whose place in Gorean society is complicated by the difference between its possible origins and the practices it has come to represent.

“How four men slain?” asked a man.

“He of the dark caste was displeased, muchly so,” said the first man.

“His quarry eluded him?” said a fellow.

“Apparently,” said the first man.

“Why four slain?” asked a fellow, apprehensively.

“He of the dark caste made inquiries,” said the first man. “They proved fruitless. None knew the whereabouts of the quarry.”

“And so four were slain?” said a man.

“He of the dark caste was displeased,” said the first man.

“So four men were slain,” said one of the men.

“Each with a thrust to the heart,” said the first man.

“Where is he of the dark caste?” asked a fellow, his voice shaking.

“He is gone,” said the first man. “We do not know where.”

“He of the dark caste simply withdrew?” said a man.

“Yes,” said the first man.

“Undetained?” said a man.

“One does not interfere with one of the dark caste, when he is hunting,” said the first man.

“Guardsmen?” inquired one of the men.

“Nor they,” said the first man.
Pages 132

I had seen this man before, this large-handed, lean, hard man, on the wharf at Victoria, from my cage, he passing by, feral, wary and taciturn, men withdrawing from his path. He had inquired of my dealer the location of the tavern of Tasdron. To be sure, he was now dressed differently, rather nondescriptively, in a tan, pocketed work tunic. He wore, as well, a wide, double-buckled belt, from which a dagger, in its sheath, was suspended, and ankle-high, cord-laced street sandals. About his throat was a laborer’s brown sweat scarf, which might be raised about the face, to protect one from dust, or conceal the features. When I had seen him before, that morning in Victoria, he had been clad differently, more somberly, in a sable tunic, a cape, high, black, bootlike sandals. He had been armed, a short sword in its scabbard slung from the left shoulder, rather than across the body. In his left arm, cradled, had been a black helmet. In his appearance there had been a particular oddity that I recalled well. I took it to be a caste mark, or festive design. In black, painted or inked in place, small and delicate, on his forehead, was the image of an unsheathed dagger, Certainly now there was no sign of such a design or device on his forehead.
Pages 220 

On the journey itself, my master wore nondescript garments, suggestive of no caste in particular.
Page 222

I wore a black tunic, and a black collar.

Two slaves, similarly clad and collared, but free of impediments, both exquisite, were serving the tables.
Page 228

Some dozen or so men, in black dinner robes, were reclining on the supper couches; some attending to the circle of sand, others differently occupied, chatting, sipping ka-la-na, sampling assorted viands proffered by the serving slaves. The men at the tables, those attentive, those bemused, those bored, those testing and savoring beverages and dishes, wore dark chaplets upon their brow, these woven from somber dark leaves, muchly different from the tangles of aromatic blossoms worn by many Goreans at festive suppers. There was little of brightness or color in this place. It was muchly different from the bold and striking colors that, in bold display, characterize so many Gorean rooms, halls, and domiciles.
Page 228

“Light the torches, the lamps,” said a fellow from a table across the sand. He wore the somber robes and dark chaplet of the others but seemed more dour, more formidable, more terrible, surely in a way the others did not. I had seen him enter the room, and the others, including my master, Tyrraios, had stood, acknowledging his presence, and did not resume their positions until he had taken his place on his couch, a higher couch than the others. I gathered his presence was not usual in this place, but that he was a guest of sorts, perhaps a visitor to these precincts. In entering, he had passed closely to me, so closely that his somber robe had touched me, and I had drawn back, chilled. He stopped, stood near me, and looked down at me. I looked away, quickly, putting my head down. His skin seemed unusual, grayish, his eyes were as unexpressive as glass, He was a large man, and moved easily. The head, a large head, had moved a little, gently swaying, as he had entered, scanning the room. It reminded me, oddly, of the movement of another form of life, the movement of the head of a snake.

Before he had taken his position, one of the men had said, “We are honored that you appear in our court.”

“We are honored,” had then said the others, including my master. Shortly after that the two men with daggers had entered the circle of sand. Both had bowed to the strange figure, and then withdrawn to opposite sides of the circle of sand.

Slaves, the two who were serving the supper, and some others, similarly lovely similarly long-haired, similarly clad and collared, hastened to kindle torches and lamps, and, shortly, the room was well lit.

The body of one of the two men who had trod the now-reddened sand was dragged away.

The other approached the high couch and knelt before it, head down.

“Bring him a robe, a supper robe, and a chaplet,” said he on the high couch.

Slaves soon adorned the man.

“Come, join me on the high couch,” invited he on the high couch.

This invitation was greeted with a murmur of surprise by several of those assembled. I gathered that this sort of recognition was unusual in this place.

The fellow from the sand, startled, awed, and elated, had soon ascended the high couch, to join the dark figure reclining there, as though enthroned.

“Give me the dagger,” said the imposing figure on the high couch.

The dagger was instantly surrendered to him.

He of the high couch then reached to the head of the fellow and, by the hair, pulled him to the knife, which was thrust through the supper robe, to the heart.

“You were clumsy,” said he of the high couch.

The eyes of the fellow were wide, and then empty and he expired without a sound, and was thrust from the supper table to the sand. I saw the blood, the staining of the rent garment, the dark chaplet fallen to the sand. The body was removed.

“Master,” I whispered, in horror, to Tyrraios.

“The kill is to be clean,” said Tyrraios. “We are not butchers.”

“I had thought he would have reached the fourth step,” said a man.

“No,” said another.

“Master,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“This place,” I said, “is the Black Court of Brundisium.”

“Yes,” he said.

“But what,” I asked, “is the Black Court of Brundisium?”

“You are, indeed, a naive barbarian,” he said.

“Please, Master,” I said.

“It is little different from other black courts,” he said.

“Master,” I begged, looking up, the chain on my neck.

“This is a chapter house,” he said, “of the black caste, the caste of Assassins.”
Pages 229

It may be useful to speak briefly of the nature of a black court.

As you have doubtless surmised, there is, and remains, much on this unusual, perilous, lovely world of which I am unaware, or, at least, too little informed.

A black court, I gather, is named for the color of the caste of Assassins, which is black. The caste is sometimes spoken of, when men dare to speak of it, as the black caste, or the sable caste. In many Gorean cities it is unwelcome, even outlawed. For example, it is outlawed in Ar and in Market of Semris. Its outlawry in Ar, I gather, followed an unsuccessful attempt by an army led by Pa-Kur, a high Assassin, to seize that great city, the largest, richest, and most populous in Gor’s northern hemisphere. The city it seems, was in disarray, and its Ubar challenged, following the temporary loss of its Home Stone, purloined by an unidentified tarnsman during the revels of the Planting Feast. Supposedly instrumental in the defeat of Pa-Kur and the restoration of the Ubar of the city to power was a figure known in the songs as Tarl of Bristol, which figure, as many such figures recounted in such songs, is presumably legendary. The hostile army, in some of the scrolls, is spoken of as the Horde of Pa-Kur, which disparaging epithet occurs in common parlance, doubtless reflecting the truism that history is likely to reflect the views of the victors. The outlawry of the caste of Assassins in Market of Semris may have been an independent act, or may have followed the example of Ar. In any event, it seems that “black courts” exist in a number of cities, though surely not all, either openly, as in Brundisium, or, one supposes, sometimes, where outlawed, secretly.

The existence of a “black caste,” on a world such as Gor, is not as surprising, inexplicable, or unconscionable, as it might seem. Indeed, it is highly likely that, long ago, in the beginning, the caste was formed to supply a need, or perform a role within society that was perceived as being not only fully justified, but desirable. On Gor there are no, or few, “nations” in the sense that one of my former world would be likely to think of as nations. Similarly there is no international law. Law for most practical purposes, reaches no further than the swords of a given polity. The common Gorean polity is the town, village, or city, and whatever territory about the polity to which it can extend its hegemony. In this sense, polities may appear on maps but not borders. The territory controlled by a polity is likely, historically, to wax and wane with the fortunes of the polity. The nearest things to nations would seem to be the large island Ubarates, such as Tyros and Cos, where the sea forms natural barriers, or borders, so to speak, but even there power seems centered in particular cities, such as Kasra and Jad. A saying I have heard seems germane here, “the laws of Cos march with the spears of Cos.” Two further aspects of the Gorean way might also be considered, first, the suspicion and hostility obtaining amongst diverse polities, which militates against cooperation and assistance, and the limits of Gorean law, even within a polity as Goreans tend to be radically independent and likely to resent the intrusion of others, even a polity, into what are regarded as their own concerns or affairs. For example, vendettas occasionally take place amongst families, in which the polity and others, respecting the wishes of the participants, decline to intervene.

Given such considerations, and the consequent difficulty, frequently recognized, of obtaining justice, satisfaction, or vengeance, as the case may be, one can well understand the existence of an order of men, itinerant, independent, dedicated, armed, and skilled, for hire. Such men may, for example, pursue a fugitive from city to city with impunity regardless of caste, warfare, and Home Stone. Few will interfere with the hunting Assassin, sable-clad, dagger on brow, passing amongst them, going quietly about his work. Similarly, few would challenge the wind, or the dark sky from which lighting might strike.

Some Assassins are particular in accepting their commissions, but, clearly, others are not. One might accept a handful of copper tarsks to do justice, at least as he understands it, whereas another, for a purse of gold, might kill an administrator, murder a business rival, or eliminate a competitive legatee. Some rich men pay local black courts not to accept commissions against them.

There seems little doubt that over the years the black courts became less scrupulous in the commissions they accepted. The original image of the elite mercenary, hired to do good and carry right into otherwise inaccessible precincts, supplying a needed service not otherwise available, became transformed into that of the contemporary black caste, an order of skilled, dangerous men particular about little else but their fees.

It might be noted, in passing, that the black caste is jealous of what it regards as its prerogatives. It will seek out and kill other hired killers. It does not favor competition, and wishes to maintain, in effect, its monopoly in that area. It might also be noted, again in passing, that the black caste, as a matter of policy, does not concern itself with members who might be slain while about their work. There is no notion of vengeance or seeking retribution involved. It might be regretted that a fee is lost, but nothing else. One who is slain in his work is regarded as having failed, and, in virtue of this, is denied any further consideration. It will, on the other hand, hunt an individual who might, in its view, have gratuitously slain one of its members.

In my time in the black court I occasionally witnessed the admission of clients who sought the services of the “dark sword.” Other clients, by means of messengers, may request a discreet interview with a representative of the caste, in which fees might be negotiated and arrangements made. As is understandable, certain individuals would not wish to be noticed entering the precincts of the court. Slaves were not privy to such interviews, either within or outside the court.

As I suppose is clear, the caste of Assassins is not a typical caste. For example, there were no free women in the black court. Companionship is forbidden to members of the caste. Membership, as with the Warriors, with which caste the Assassins are often compared, is not earned by birth, but by deeds. In the case of the dark caste, however, there is no devotion to the codes of honor, which might spare a disabled foe, which might temper victory, say, with the recognition of opposed valor, no generous companionship of the blade, no brothers in arms. Friendship is frowned upon. Emotion is eschewed. Such things are alleged to weaken the will, to soften resolve, to stay the hand the fraction of an Ihn that might compromise the strike. The Assassin is to be much alone. Like the forest panther, he is commonly a solitary hunter. He is to have no associations, connections, interests, or entanglements that might distract, compromise, or impair his capacity to discharge the requirements of his office, the fulfillment of his commission. His life belongs to the caste. His allegiance is to be undivided. He is to devote himself to his skills, and to his tools, the dagger, the quarrel, the wire noose, the dart, the brewing of poisons, to deception, patience, disguise, and ruthlessness. One applies, one trains, one strives, and one is either accepted or rejected, and the rejected have commonly perished in trials of arms.

The black caste is generally feared, and loathed.

Who then would seek admission to such a despised caste?

Perhaps the feared, and loathed.

But, too, in some, is there not an attraction to dark power, and the gratification of inspiring apprehension?

But admission is not easily purchased. Few are permitted to compete, and of those who are permitted to compete, few live to don the sable tunic. It is not easy to climb the nine steps of blood.

There is no place in the caste, incidentally, for the inept and dull, for thugs, vandals, and bullies, for the naively, simplistically brutal, for the petty, or the merely cruel and greedy, for the refuse of a city’s gutters, for those regarded as the unworthy. Few survive to carry the “dark sword.”

Doubtless there are reasons why one, perhaps despairing and ruined, might seek entrance into dreaded precincts.

Amongst applicants might be found the dishonored and failed, the disappointed and abandoned, the despised and hated, the hopeless and resigned, the mocked and ridiculed, ones who have fled from Home Stones, who have repudiated codes, perhaps fugitives who seek a sanctuary behind dark walls, possibly seekers of thrills, possibly mercenaries intent on bartering steel for gold, without compunction, perhaps those seeking approval for their pathological instincts that, suitably exercised, will be condoned, even celebrated.

It is hard to say.

Much in the black court is secret. If they have codes, I do not know what they would be, saving perhaps a relentless fidelity to a commission. For example, slaves were not permitted to witness training, not that I would have cared to do so, certainly following the killing I had seen at the banquet, nor attend instructions, even while serving, addressed to the candidates. I have seen the plates of weapons and devices borne to the training chambers, the daggers, the balanced throwing knives, the easily concealed hook knife, the swords, the darts, the loops of wire, the chain garrotes, and, in particular, the crossbow and quarrel, the favored striking weapon of the caste, which may be easily concealed beneath a cloak, and in whose guide a quarrel may wait for Ahn, like the ost, before it strikes.

I was some days in the black court.

My master, for I was not owned by the court, frequently occupied himself in the city, I think in the vicinity of the wharves, presumably waiting for, or searching for, the mysterious shipment that was supposed to arrive at Brundisium, claimedly deriving from a “steel world.” I had no idea what might be the contents of this shipment, or its importance, or what it might have to do with me, or with my first master, Kurik, of Victoria.

In the meantime I was kept busy in the court, cleaning, scrubbing, laundering, assisting in the kitchen, and serving at the common meals. The first girl was stern, but fair. She played no favorites. That I was a barbarian did not adversely affect my treatment, as it might easily have done in many situations. I was grateful to her. The slaves are at the disposal of the men, as one would expect, but I, as a private slave, a status envied by my collar-sisters, was reserved to my master. On the other hand, he made little use of me, apparently busying himself in various disguises, conducting inquiries in the city, attempting to garner useful gossip, or intelligence, at various taverns, and so on. Accordingly, most nights I lay in my kennel, untouched, and, I confess, as a slave, deprived, and miserable. We need the touch of our masters. Men have made us so. We are no longer ours, but theirs.

I will recount an anecdote, or two, which, in their way, might shed some light on the nature of a black court. First, let it be understood that the edifice that houses the black court is not large, but it does have a formidable, menacing aspect. It is like a small fortress in the city with high, dark walls, with a moat, a drawbridge, and a portcullis, a heavy, vertically barred, reinforced gate that may be raised or lowered by means of a windlass. The court’s position is isolated, in a sense, as, even within the city, it occupies an area of unplanted ground on all sides. This area is several yards in width, and, as it is open, it affords no cover to any who might approach the court, and its moat.

“You two,” said the first girl, “go to the salt market, at the east gate, to the vendor, Porus, and return with a stone of salt.”

“As we are, in the black collar?” asked the other girl.

“I will have it so,” said the first girl. “Here is the sack. When it is filled, have its contents weighed carefully.”

“Porus switched you, yesterday, did he not?” asked the other girl, amused.

“Perhaps,” said the first girl.

“Come along,” said the other girl.

I had no idea, of course, of the best route to the east gate.

“Why am I coming along?” I asked her.

“Someone must carry the salt,” she said.

“Why not you?” I asked.

“I am not a barbarian,” she said.

“I see,” I said.

This was the first time, since my arrival at the black court, that I had been allowed outside the court.

I did not think of escape, of course, as I was collared. Tunicked, collared, and marked, there is no escape for the Gorean slave girl. The best she might hope for would be to fall into the hands of a new master, who would know she has fled a former master. How heavy then would be her chains, how cruel the stroke of the lash! Too, the recovered slave girl risks at least a severe beating, but perhaps, as well, a hamstringing, or being disposed of, perhaps being fed to sleen, or being cast, naked and bound, amongst writhing, ravenous leech plants. But I did not even wish to escape, for I had found myself on this perilous, beautiful world. I had learned something on Gor, of which I had been unaware, or, better, not completely or fully aware, on my former world, that I belonged in a slave collar. How thrilled I was to be so reduced, so shamed, so owned! I dare not speak for other women, being a mere slave, but, for me, it was right. I wanted the collar, and belonged in it, and was in it. I loved that it was on my neck, closed and locked. It was there. I could not remove it. I did not wish to remove it. I was a slave.

Let other women scorn me, if they wish.

I loved being a slave.

How glorious to be a property, helpless, and owned by men!

How free I was!

I was a slave.

“Have you money?” I asked.

I had not seen the first girl hand her any money. Too, as far as I could tell, she had no coin, or coins, in her mouth, nor clutched in her hand.

“No,” she said.

“I do not understand,” I said.

“Do not concern yourself,” she said.

We continued on for a time. I held the empty sack, four times folded. We turned onto a large street.

“Beware,” I whispered, “a free woman approaches.” She walked regally, and carried a switch.

“Keep your eyes down,” my companion whispered. “Do not make eye contact. You do not see her. She does not see you.”

“Let us go to the side of the street, and kneel, head down,” I said. I had no wish to feel a switch.

“Now look up,” she said, a moment later merrily.

I did so.

“She is gone,” I said, looking about. “The free woman is gone.”

“Not really,” said my companion. “She merely went to the other side of the street.”

“Why?” I asked.

“We wear the black tunic, the black collar,” she laughed.

As we continued on our way, even men tended to avoid us. We did receive, as some passed us by, closely, dark looks, and we noted sneers of contempt, but no one seemed interested in interacting with us, neither free men nor free women.

“The men do not seem to regard us with appetition, frankly and appraisingly,” I said, puzzled. Certainly this was muchly different from my former experiences on open streets, as in Ar, and was muchly different from the common experiences of slave girls on open streets. One of the pleasures of being a Gorean male, I had gathered, was the inspective perusal of frequently encountered kajirae, in markets, in the plazas, on the boulevards and in lesser thoroughfares, kajirae running errands, chained to public slave rings, conveniently located, awaiting the return of masters, and so on. Do not such slaves dress up a city? Indeed, when visiting dignitaries are about, citizens are encouraged to set their girls, attractively tunicked, wandering about the city that a suitable impression may be conveyed to the visitors. Surely these lovely slaves contribute, like parks and well-designed, colorful buildings, to the beauty of a city indeed, the number and quality of slave girls is taken as evidence of a city’s taste, success, power, wealth, and prowess in warfare. Some of the girls so displayed may even have been obtained from the dignitary’s
own city. But that matters not, for, once collared, a slave is a slave.

“No,” said my companion. “They are uneasy with the black court, and many fear it.”

“I do not like being ignored,” I said.

“Vain slave,” she said.

What slave is not pleased to be the object of interest and regard, to know that she is looked upon and desired, that she stirs and heats the blood of men, that they would like to have her at their slave ring?

“Surely we are not sent forth commonly as we are now,” I said.

“Not at all,” she said, turning left.

I recalled there was nothing on my collar, but that it would be recognized, for its black enamel, and that I would be returned to the court. I would be left, helplessly bound, by the court, presumably at the edge of the moat, before the then-raised drawbridge. Apparently no reward would be expected, or proffered. On the other hand, court slaves, when sent forth from the court, were commonly tunicked nondescriptly and opaquely, and put in a collar that did bear a legend. That legend, I was informed, would return me to an address unlikely to be recognized as having anything to do with the black court, from which address I would then be, in due time, returned to the court.

“Why now?” I asked.

“Our first girl,” she said, “was not pleased to have been switched by Porus, the salt merchant.”

“We are seldom pleased to be switched,” I said.

“He is not even a desirable master,” she said.

“Oh,” I said.

“It is not far,” she said.

The salt in the local markets is obtained from the sea. Large pans are set forth with a thin film of sea water, which, as it evaporates, leaves the salt behind, which is then scraped together, and sent to the markets of the city.

“We are here,” she said.

The fellow looked up, quickly, shrewdly, from amongst the kegs of salt, amidst which he sat, and turned white.

“Tal, noble Master,” said my companion, kneeling. “We would like a stone of salt.”

I knelt, too.

“That is four tarsk-bits,” he said, cautiously.

“It is to be weighed out, carefully,” said my companion.

“Four tarsk-bits,” he said.

“Give the noble master the sack, that he may weigh out the salt,” said my companion.

I made to hand the sack to the fellow who was, I gathered, Porus, but he thrust it away.

“Four tarsk-bits,” he said.

My companion then rose and I, decidedly uneasy, for we had not been given permission to rise, rose to my feet, as well. I knew nothing else to do.

“Come, Phyllis,” she said. “There is nothing for us to do now but return to the court, and inform the masters that Porus, the salt merchant, he who deals near the east gate, declined to weigh salt for us.”

She then backed away, a step or two, as did I, and turned to leave.

We had scarcely gone three steps when Porus called out to us, “Wait, sweet kajirae,” he said, “I did but jest.”

Shortly thereafter we left his impromptu place of business, amongst the kegs, I bearing a bulging bag of salt, one which, we noted, bore well over a stone’s weight of the sparkling mineral, sometimes called the diamond of the sea.

“The first girl will be pleased,” said my companion. “Her switching cost him four tarsk-bits.”

“She was not recognized as being of the court,” I said.

“Of course not,” she said. “Even free women are unlikely to strike a girl in the black tunic.”

“Surely,” I said, “those of the black caste, as others, purchase goods.”

“Commonly,” she said, “but when they are in the dark habiliments, it is not unknown for merchants, and others, unrequested, to force goods upon them, as gifts.”
Pages 232

Tomorrow then my guise will be that of a blind beggar, depending on his guide slave.
Page 248

“Beware!” I said. “My master is not blind. The bandage he wore is a hoax! His sight is as keen as that of the tarn! He is as dangerous as the larl in rutting time. He hunts you. He is of the black caste!”

“I thought,” said he, “the black caste might be involved. They prove to be excellent agents, well worth their pay.”

“He seeks you,” I said. “He intends you harm, death. Do not loiter here! Run! He is of the dark caste! You are hunted! Neither dismiss nor ignore this threat! You are not dealing with an ordinary man! He is of the dark caste! He is one who has ascended the nine steps of blood.”
Pages 258

Black wine is expensive.

The plants from which its seeds are obtained apparently grow favorably, perhaps even most favorably, on the slopes of the Thentis Mountains, an area under the jurisdiction of the mountain city of Thentis. The trade in black wine is closely controlled by the so-called “vintners” of Thentis. For example, it is forbidden to take viable black-wine seeds or plants from the vicinity of Thentis. And, as one would suppose, the sale of the roasted seeds from which the black wine is brewed is carefully supervised and regulated. Doubtless some smuggling occurs. Where such plants are found, illegitimately planted, at least from the point of view of the Thentis “vintners,” they are uprooted and destroyed. Similarly, smugglers, if apprehended, are often dealt with harshly, by impalement, or servitude in the mines, quarries, or galleys. This policing is commonly done by representatives of the “vintners” of Thentis, but it is sometimes hired out to the caste of Assassins, which constitutes the nearest thing to an international police force on Gor, a force subject neither to the constraints of walls, borders, or Home Stones.
Page 404

“It was no Taurentian,” said Kurik. “It was an Assassin, a member of the Black Caste, in the uniform of a Taurentian, Tyrtaios, by name.”
Page 473

On his right was Drusus Andronicus, long-armed, handsome, and stalwart, in suitable scarlet, betokening his caste, who stood high in the house, and, on his left, clad openly, brazenly, unapologetically, in the hues of the night, was Tyrtaios, of the caste whose members acknowledge no Home Stone, the caste of Assassins.
Page 545

“It would not matter much if you were an excellent swordsman, or not,” said Tyrtaios. “It might take a moment longer, another parry, another thrust. My skills reach beyond excellent. I fear only two swords on Gor, that of the High Master of the Caste of Assassins, and that of an obscure warrior who, long ago, on the roof of the Central Cylinder of Ar, bested him.”

“Then only one,” said Kurik, “for the High Master, bested, defeated, must have been slain.”

“No,” said Tyrtaios. “He escaped.”
Page 551

The Nature of the Black Caste

In Plunder of Gor, John Norman provides an extensive examination of the Caste of Assassins, also referred to as the Black Caste or Sable Caste. The passages describe a distinct order of skilled, independent men whose work extends across the boundaries of individual cities and their laws.

The Assassin is portrayed as a professional whose life and allegiance are devoted to the caste and the execution of his commission.

The Black Court

Pages 229–231 introduce the Black Court of Brundisium as a chapter house of the Caste of Assassins. Further passages on pages 232–240 describe its fortified premises, secluded location, and the fear it inspires among the inhabitants of the city.

The novel also explains that Black Courts exist in some Gorean cities openly and in others secretly, particularly where the caste is outlawed.

This material provides a rare view of the caste as an organized institution rather than simply a collection of individual assassins.

The Purpose and Origins of the Caste

On pages 231–232, the narrator considers why an order of Assassins might have arisen in Gorean society. The explanation connects the caste’s existence to the difficulty of obtaining justice, satisfaction, or vengeance in a world divided among independent cities and territories.

The Assassin is presented as an itinerant, independent, armed, and skilled man for hire, able to pursue a fugitive beyond the reach of a single city’s authority.

The passage offers a possible explanation for the caste’s original social purpose, while acknowledging that the narrator is reasoning from his understanding of Gor.

The Commission and the Fee

Pages 232–233 distinguish between Assassins who are selective about their commissions and those willing to accept payment for a wider range of purposes.

Some may accept a modest fee for what they consider justice, while others may be hired to eliminate administrators, business rivals, or competing heirs.

The novel also describes clients who pay Black Courts not to accept commissions against them.

These passages reveal that the commission and its fee are central to the Assassin’s professional existence, while also raising questions about the purposes for which that service is employed.

Professional Loyalty and the Limits of Vengeance

On pages 233–234, the narrator explains that the caste does not ordinarily avenge members slain while carrying out their work. An Assassin killed in the course of a commission is regarded as having failed, and his death does not automatically demand retribution.

The passage makes a distinction, however, between a member who dies during his work and someone who gratuitously kills an Assassin. The latter may become the object of the caste’s own hunt.

This distinction is important when examining the difference between professional obligation, failure, and vengeance.

The Black Dagger and the Hunt

Pages 220–221 describe the dagger mark upon the forehead of a man suspected of belonging to the caste. Pages 258–259 refer to the mark as a sign that the Assassin has ascended the nine steps of blood.

The novel also describes the Assassin withdrawing after failing to locate his quarry, having killed four men who could not provide the information he sought. Those present make clear that neither ordinary men nor guardsmen would interfere with an Assassin while he was hunting.

The passages establish the mark as a powerful symbol of caste identity and the hunt as an activity that commands fear and deference.

The Nine Steps of Blood

Pages 230–231 and 233–234 describe admission to the caste as a demanding process. Few are permitted to compete, and fewer still survive to wear the sable tunic.

The phrase “nine steps of blood” appears as an expression associated with attaining the black ranks. The text also states that rejected applicants commonly perish during trials of arms.

Together, these passages present membership as something earned through deeds and dangerous trials, rather than through birth or simple declaration.

The Assassin’s Training and Professional Standards

Pages 233–234 describe a system in which applicants train, strive, and are either accepted or rejected. The text emphasizes the importance of skill, patience, deception, disguise, and ruthlessness.

It also distinguishes the professional Assassin from the inept, the merely brutal, and the common bully. Membership is not presented as a refuge for anyone who wishes to kill; the candidate must demonstrate the qualities demanded by the caste.

The passage gives a broader account of the standards expected of those who seek to carry the dark sword.

Solitude and Allegiance to the Caste

Pages 233–234 describe the Assassin as a solitary hunter, with companionship, friendship, and emotional attachments discouraged because they are believed to weaken concentration and resolve.

The text states that the Assassin’s life belongs to the caste and that his allegiance is to be undivided. His skills and tools are to remain the focus of his attention, without outside connections that might compromise the commission.

This is one of the novel’s clearest descriptions of the caste’s demanding philosophy of personal discipline and isolation.

The Assassin’s Weapons and Craft

On pages 234–235, the narrator lists the tools associated with the Assassin’s profession: daggers, throwing knives, concealed hook knives, swords, darts, wire loops, chain garrotes, and, particularly, the crossbow and quarrel.

The passage emphasizes the crossbow’s place among the caste’s favored weapons, noting that it can be concealed beneath a cloak and kept ready until the moment of the strike.

The Assassin’s craft is therefore presented as extending beyond a single weapon to a range of tools and specialized skills.

The Assassin’s Place Beyond the Home Stone

Pages 231–232 and 546–547 describe the caste’s relationship to Gorean cities and their political boundaries. The Assassin acknowledges no Home Stone, and the text presents his work as extending across territories where local law and authority may not reach.

The novel also notes that the caste is outlawed in some cities, including Ar and the Market of Semris, while its services remain available to those willing to pay.

This theme connects the Assassin’s independence to both his professional usefulness and his uneasy relationship with civic authority.

The Black Caste’s Reputation and Power

Pages 229–240 describe the fear and hostility associated with the Black Court. Its fortified building, secluded grounds, and the reactions of those who encounter its members contribute to an atmosphere of danger.

The narrator also considers why people might seek admission to such a despised caste, including the attraction of dark power and the gratification of inspiring apprehension.

These passages explore the relationship between the Assassin’s actual professional abilities and the reputation that surrounds the Black Caste.

Concealment, Disguise, and Intelligence

Pages 248–249 describe Tyrtaios occupying himself with disguises, inquiries, and the gathering of information in the city. Page 473 identifies him as an Assassin wearing the uniform of a Taurentian, while pages 258–259 describe a warning that he is hunting a quarry.

The passages demonstrate that the Assassin’s work may involve more than the final act of killing. Concealing identity, gathering intelligence, and moving through unfamiliar environments are also part of the novel’s portrayal of the caste.

The Assassin as a Professional Beyond Mere Violence

Pages 230–234 distinguish the trained Assassin from thugs, vandals, bullies, and those who are merely cruel or greedy. The caste demands skill, discipline, and the ability to complete a commission.

The description of the clean kill on pages 229–230 reinforces this distinction: the Assassin is explicitly contrasted with a butcher.

This theme is useful for understanding how the novel differentiates professional execution from uncontrolled or inept violence.