The pseudo-Emperor cursed, struggled, begged for his life.
Joel's face was a grimace of triumph. He reached the parapet, heaved the pseudo-Emperor over the edge.
A single piercing scream came up to him.
Joel didn't look down. He gripped the railing, staring out over the gutted city. He heard a step behind him, felt Priscilla cover his hand with hers.
"I knew you'd come. But Joel, we mustn't waste time!" Her voice was tremulous. "Please hurry before the alarm is given!"
"No," he said. "We'll wait here."
"Joel! Roos' death won't stop the revolt. There'll be a dozen men to take his place. Maybe the Ganelons will take us in!"
"Look," he said simply, and pointed out over the parapet.