The Myrmidon said: "We—" and began to cough.
His companion came over to slap him on the back with bone-crushing blows. Forrester watched without changing expression.
Some seconds passed.
Then the Myrmidon choked, swallowed, straightened and said, his face purple: "All this incense. Not like what we've got over at the All-Father's Temple. Enough to choke a man to death."
Forrester murmured politely.
"Back to business—right?" He favored Forrester with a rather savage-looking smile, and Forrester allowed his own lips to curve gently and respectfully upward.
It didn't look as if he were going to be killed, after all.
"Important instructions for you," the Myrmidon said. "From the Pontifex Maximus. And not to be repeated to any mortal—understand?"
Forrester nodded.
"And that means any mortal," the Myrmidon said. "Girl friend, wife—or don't you Athenans go in for that sort of thing? Now, up at the All-Father's Temple, we—"