“I’ll spare you that, then. Let’s talk about your literary achievements. Three pieces of jibbering nonsense. I understand that last book of yours was on the best-seller lists for a short time. As they say, if you put a monkey in a room with a typewriter long enough, he’ll eventually produce Shakespearean sonnets.” He paused, letting the pain of the lashings sink in. As a child, Rix had fought against crying when the Peacemaker was in use, but the pain ultimately won. Had enough? Walen would ask, and when Rix remained stubbornly silent the belt would whistle again. Walen said offhandedly,
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even if my books end up being shit, at least no one will say this to me about them i guess?
