A truck was being run into position. The shouts below grew louder. I crouched in the protection of the same timber that had him pinned down. The ceiling over the corridor outside fell in with a crash, dragging the front wall with it. I heard the crackling and looked up. Directly overhead the ceiling began to buckle, sagging in the middle with flame lancing through the cracks.
I looked at Berin and laughed. He turned his head and stared right into the muzzle of his own gun. Minutes-seconds-fractions of time. The ceiling was swaying now. The killer's face was a vile mask of hatred, praying for the ceiling to get us both. He was going to go first if it happened that way.
Something banged against the side of the window and slid over the silclass="underline" two prongs with a crossbar between them. A ladder bobbed as someone came up it, covered by the stream of water.
Berin had his mouth open, screaming with all the furies of the gods dethroned, but my laugh was even louder.
He was still screaming when I pulled the trigger.