Death's Reckoning Read Online Free PDF Page B

but also allowed her to learn more about men and what they wanted. Men were the sole reason war existed in the world. Let women control things, and war would disappear.
    Sondabar Awelien led the Thurbian troops against their hated oppressors some eight hundred years ago with an army comprised of slaves. The grueling war lasted thirteen years and ranged all over the deserts and cities of Thurbia. Halfway through, dozens of provinces took arms against the government, siding with the slaves, but in the end, the rebellion was defeated on the Gallyon Plains.
    Awelien was executed, and the culture that spawned him went about their lives as if he had never existed. Slaves continued to toil, masters continued their iron rule, meting out justice as they saw fit.
    Madam Dreary was certain people mourned. Many thousands of families were shattered, but there was no mention of it in the text. Oftentimes she read similar stories of war and political upheaval, and time and time again these little details were left out. This particular history presented Sondabar as an usurping tyrant, petty thief, murderer, and overall social misfit.
    The general was revered by many in the same land to this day as a freedom fighter and savior of the poor. She had a strong suspicion this was a closer representation of the true life of Awelien Sondabar. But history was written by the victor and those with their own agenda.
    She yawned, feeling the relaxation reading brought to her late at night. She had a long day of pushing her business, helping the girls get paid, and doing all the other things that a hard working madam did. The hour was late.
    A loud bang followed by a shout startled her. She turned her head, the book hugging her chest and sliding down her torso. A muffled argument reached her from another apartment.
    They weren’t uncommon when money and sex were involved. Emotions escalated. Tempers flared. Madam Dreary was accustomed to dealing with it, always the peacekeeper, always siding with her girls.
    This one was different however. Some underlying pent up rage, a mean-spirited edge to the fellow’s voice she didn’t like. This was not a normal dispute.
    Dreary sat up, a trill of fear hitting her as the man’s voice rose in volume and anger. A nasty, hateful tilt rippled through his tone though she couldn’t understand the words. She rose, slipping into some pants, boots, and an appropriate top, one with a dagger on the belt. The man should have been screened better.
    Stepping into the hallway, the volume increased and several girls already stood outside their rooms, peering down the end of the corridor. The words became more distinct.
    “…never said that, you bitch!”
    “I told you before, I said—”
    “Lying slut!”
    Madam Dreary heard the wet smacking sound of flesh striking flesh, and she ran down the hallway. The other girls shouted, and some of them followed her. They reached the room and stood aghast at the scene before them.
    A half-naked man stood over one of Dreary’s girls, shoving her face into the carpet. He cussed and screamed at her. The other girls were screaming and begging him to stop, but no one made a move to intervene. Except Madam Dreary.
    She bull rushed him from behind, slamming her shoulder into his back. He went sprawling and tumbled over a small couch. The Madam squatted down over the young girl and held her head. The girl sobbed.
    “There, there, dear one,” she said but kept her eye on the man. “All is well. We’ll take care of you. Shush now.”
    “You bitch!” The man stood. Blood gushed from his nose that dribbled down his sweaty face and chest. His eyes were on Dreary, wrath on his features.
    Some of the girls gasped and stepped back, but others took strength in the stance of their Madam. Dreary handed off the injured girl to another and stood. She drew her dagger and faced the man, hardening her features.
    The man glanced at the dagger, and his stance relaxed. Rage still filled his eyes. The