His voice sounded strange in his own ears.
A gibbering response quavered out of the gloom.
"What matters friend or foe as long as you grasp the tenure of power?"
Basil breathed a sigh of relief.
"I ought to know that voice. You are Bessarion?"
"I have waited long," came the drawling reply.
There was a pause brief as the intake of a breath.
"What do you demand?"—
"You shall know in time."
"In time comes death!"