probably always had been,
to act first and apologize later, if at all.

Maybe whatever he'd done had been so important they couldn't afford to
make mistakes.

But did the Myrmidon really think that an imposter could parade around
in an acolyte's tunic in the very Temple of Pallas Athena without being
caught by one of the Athenan Myrmidons, or some other acolyte or priest?

Maybe a thing like that could happen in one of the other Temples,
Forrester thought. But here at Pallas Athena people took the Goddess's
attribute of wisdom seriously. What the Dionysians might do, he
reflected, was impossible to say. Or, for that matter, the Venerans.

But he produced his identity card and handed it to the Myrmidon. It was
compared with a card the Myrmidon dug out of his pouch, and the
thumbprints on both cards were examined side by side.

After a while, Forrester got his card back.

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--"

His companion gave him a sharp dig in the ribs.

"Oh," the Myrmidon said. "Sure. Well. Instructions not to be repeated.
Right?"

"Right," Forrester said.

Instructions? From the Pontifex Maximus? _Secret_ instructions?

Forrester's mind spun dizzily. This was no arrest. This was something
very special and unique. He tried once more to imagine what it was going
to be, and gave it up in wonder.

The Myrmidon produced another card from his pouch. There was nothing on
it but the golden Thunderbolt of the All-Father--but that was quite
enough.

Forrester accepted the card dumbly.

"You will report