The world had changed: the fact of an alien invasion from another world via a magic gate was no longer a source of wonder. Borric had a war to fight and win. He had added some marks with brush and ink to the campaign map.

'What's this?' asked Brucal, pointing to a notation Borric had added earlier in the morning.

'Another migration of Dark Brothers. It looks as if a fairly large contingent of them are moving down the southern foothills of the Great Northern Mountains. They're treading a narrow path near the elven forests. I can't understand why they'd come over the mountains at this time of year.'

'Those blackhearts don't have to have a reason,' observed Brucal.

Borric nodded. 'My son Arutha reported a large force tangled with the Tsurani while they were besieging my castle five years ago. But those were Dark Brothers driven from the Grey Towers by the Tsurani; they were striking north to join their kin in the Northlands. They've been quiet since then.'

'There's one possibility.'

Borric shrugged. 'I'm listening, old friend.'

'That's a bloody long trek for nothing,' observed Brucal, as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. 'They're not fools.'

'The Dark Brotherhood is many things, but never stupid,' agreed Borric. 'If they're moving in force, it's for a reason.'

'Where are they now?'

Borric said, 'Last reports from the scouts near the Elven Forest. They're avoiding the dwarves at Stone Mountain and the elven patrols, heading east.'

'Lake of the Sky is the only destination,' said Brucal, 'unless they're going to turn south and attack the elves or the Tsurani.'

'Why Lake of the Sky?'