The gate swings wide, and the darkness pours in: row on row of men in leather and chain mail armor that bears no insignia at all.

"You have your orders," Anders is saying. "Kill the Lord de Rolo and any of their men who stand against you; anyone else at the high table, take as many alive as you can. You, take your five upstairs -- the two youngest are already in bed, you know where their rooms are? Warrick, why don't you guide these men where they're going?" And in an undertone: "We won't need him once that's done."

The reverberations of many, many boots on stone are already moving up the corridor, past the side hall where Phil's hiding.