He stepped back, obviously getting ready to leave. Forrester watched him for one long second, and then burst out: "What do I do after that?"
"Just be a good boy. Do what you're told. Ask no questions. It's better that way."
Forrester thought of six separate replies and settled on a seventh. "All right," he said.
"And remember," the Myrmidon said, at the outside door, "don't mention this to anyone. Not anyone!"
The door banged shut.
Forrester found himself staring at the card he held. He put it away in his case, alongside the ID card. Then, dazed, he went on back to the acolyte's sacristy, took off his white tunic and put on his street clothes.
What did they want with him at the Tower of Zeus? It didn't really sound like an arrest. If it had been that, the Myrmidons themselves would have taken him.
So what did the Pontifex Maximus want with William Forrester?
He spent some time considering it, and then, taking a deep breath, he forced it out of his mind. He would know at eighteen hundred, and such were the ways of the Gods that he would not know one second before.
So there was no point in worrying about it, he told himself. He almost made himself believe it.