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dancer."
    "Actually, Mother sent me to ballet classes for five years. I had to wear tights."
    "But no one ever mistook you for Nijinski."
    "No." He smiled ruefully. "The only thing they ever mistook was my name."
    "Your name?" Genevieve asked.
    "Yes. The thing that drives me crazy is when people mistake my name. You wouldn't believe how many people think 'Van' is my middle name. So they think my last name is 'Nice.'" He looked morosely at the pavement. "The others in my Ph.D. program called me 'Dr. Nice.'"
    "Dr. Nice," said Genevieve. She touched his arm. "I think that's cute."
    "That's easy for you to say."
    "Aren't you nice, doctor?"
    "Oh, I suppose so. That's for other people to determine, not me."
    "I'm conducting my investigation at this very minute."
    "I take it, Owen, that your doctorate isn't in ballet," August said.
    "No. Mother gave up on ballet after I dropped the teacher. Compound fracture." He shook his head. "I'm a paleontologist. I've just spent two years in the Cretaceous."
    "So, is that dog you're traveling with Camarasauridae, diplodocidae or titanosauridae?" Genevieve asked.
    "Apatosa--you know sauropod taxonomy!"
    "Only a little." The Marilyn, ahead of them, turned to give Gen a withering gaze.
    "A dinosaur?" August asked. "This must be a rare specimen, eh?"
    "Unique. Wilma's a new species: Apatasaurus megacephalos. She's the smartest sauropod ever discovered."
    The dark girl who'd asked Owen for a light spat in the street.
    "Isn't it dangerous, dealing with those huge animals?"
    "Wilma's just a baby. She won't be able to crush you to death for months yet."
    "Better watch out for thieves, son," August said.
    Owen looked surprised. "Thieves? What could they possibly do with a biological specimen?"
    "There are a lot of exotiphagists around. Who knows what some eccentric might pay for a dinosaur steak?"
    "Oh, Father," Genevieve said, "don't be melodramatic. Who's taking care of Wilma while you're here, Owen?"
    "She's resting in my rooms. Time travel doesn't agree with her. I gave her a sedative."
    She pointed out another puddle to keep Owen from stepping in it. "So, Dr. Nice, didn't you miss human companionship back in the Cretaceous?"
    "Not really. Dinosaurs are my life."
    "Well, you may not be worried about this specimen," August said, "but we're going to take care that you get back safe and sound."
    The tour guide came back. "Please keep your conversation to a minimum, or speak in the vernacular. We're almost there."
    They emerged from the street into the Forum, crossed the tiled agora past the temple of Castor and Pollux. Above them on the Capitoline Hill the temple of Jupiter shone dramatically in the sunlight, against dispersing gray clouds. The Senate was meeting in Pompey's Theater instead of its regular building. The tour guide, having been through this dozens of times before, was able to sneak them in while avoiding anyone who might notice. From behind an arras embroidered with the suckling of Romulus and Remus by the wolf, they watched Cassius, Brutus and Casca plunge daggers into the stunned Caesar, who fell at the foot of Pompey's statue. He muttered something to Brutus in Greek, and died. There was not as much blood as Genevieve had envisioned. As with so much of the real history she had witnessed, it was over too fast, and nowhere near as striking as the later dramatizations. A good performance of Julius Caesar would blow it off the stage. Brutus and Cassius shouted for attention. About half the senators fled, others stayed to hear the conspirators justify their actions. Brutus made a short speech calling for a return to the Republic that his illustrious ancestor had helped found almost five hundred years before. Over the bleeding corpse of the man who had once stood as the Republic's defender, it was more than a little ironic. Before he finished the guide had pulled the tourists aside. "We need to leave now. Soldiers will be here soon. We don't want to have to explain our presence."
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