In that light the figure seated in a silver, throne-like chair before him seemed unreal and fantastic, with an illusiveness of outline that was heightened by a filmy silken robe. But the features were distinct--unnaturally so in that uncertain light. It was almost as if a weird nimbus played about the man's head, casting the bearded face into bold relief, so that it was the only definite and distinct reality in that mystic, ghostly chamber. It was a magnificent face, with strongly chiseled features of classical beauty. There was, indeed, something disquieting about the calm tranquility of its aspect, a suggestion of more than human knowledge, of a profound certitude beyond human assurance. Also an uneasy sensation of familiarity twitched at the back of Conan's consciousness. He had never seen this man's face before, he well knew; yet those features reminded him of something or someone. It was like encountering in the flesh some dream-image that had haunted one in nightmares. 'Who are you?' demanded the king belligerently, struggling to a sitting position in spite of his chains. 'Men call me Xaltotun,' was the reply, in a strong, golden voice. 'What place is this?' the Cimmerian next demanded. 'A chamber in the palace of King Tarascus, in Belverus.' Conan was not surprised. Belverus, the capital, was at the same time the largest Nemedian city so near the border. 'And where's Tarascus?' 'With the army.' 'Well,' growled Conan, 'if you mean to murder me, why don't you do it and get it over with?' 'I did not save you from the king's archers to murder you in Belverus,' answered Xaltotun. 'What the devil did you do to me?' demanded Conan. 'I blasted your consciousness,' answered Xaltotun. 'How, you would not understand. Call it black magic, if you will.' Conan had already reached that conclusion, and was mulling over something else. 'I think I understand why you spared my life,' he rumbled. 'Amalric wants to keep me as a check on Valerius, in case the impossible happens and he becomes king of Aquilonia. It's well known that the baron of Tor is behind this move to seat Valerius on my throne. And if I know Amalric, he doesn't intend that Valerius shall be anything more than a figurehead, as Tarascus is now.' 'Amalric knows nothing of your capture,' answered Xaltotun. 'Neither does Valerius. Both think you died at Valkia.' Conan's eyes narrowed as he stared at the man in silence. 'I sensed a brain behind all this,' he muttered, 'but I thought it was Amalric's. Are Amalric, Tarascus and Valerius all but puppets dancing on your string? Who are you?' 'What does it matter? If I told you, you would not believe me. What if I told you I might set you back on the throne of Aquilonia?' Conan's eyes burned on him like a wolf. 'What's your price?' 'Obedience to me.'