Lion Head Mesa the oracle told him to beware the Ides

The yahret, whatever that was, would have tasks for him. Aquillius puffed out a little breath, which was, for him, the equivalent of throwing up his hands and leaping for joy.

The pharaoh moved away, but she looked over to him. He made an assumption that meant he was to follow.

So he did, after a moment’s hesitation, striding at a soldier’s march after the woman, though it felt ill-fitting. He had the feeling of being a boy wearing his father’s armor, hanging off his arms, helmet slipping from his head to dangle beneath his chin like a bucket, greaves falling to armored shoes with a clang.