On the third landing he stopped for a drink, allowing Cullis to snore on, then felt sufficiently fortified to continue the descent. He was still licking his lips and had just grabbed Cullis" collar when there came an increasing, deepening, whistling noise. He dropped to the floor and hauled Cullis half on top of him.

The explosion was close enough to crack the high windows and loosen some plaster, which fell gracefully down through the triangular wedges of sunlight and pattered delicately on the stairs.

"Cullis!" He grabbed the other man's collar again and leapt backwards down the stairs. "Cullis!" he yelled, skidding round the landing, almost falling. "Cullis, you dozy old prick! Wake up!"

Another falling howl split the air; the whole palace shuddered to the detonation and a window blew in overhead; plaster and glass showered down the stairwell. Half crouched and still pulling Cullis, he staggered and cursed down another flight of stairs. "CULLIS!" he roared, tearing past empty alcoves and exquisitely rendered murals in the pastoral style. "Fuck your geriatric ass, Cullis; WAKE UP!"

He skidded round another landing, the remaining bottles clanking furiously and the big gun knocking chunks out of decorative panels. The deepening whistle again; he dived as the stairs leapt up at him and glass burst overhead; everything was white as the dust whirled. He staggered to his feet and saw Cullis sitting upright, scattering plaster shards from his chest and rubbing his good eye. Another explosion, rumbling further away.

Cullis looked miserable. He waved one hand through the dust. "This isn't fog and that wasn't thunder, right?"

"Right," he shouted, already leaping downstairs.