This man’s face had lingered in her mind because she’d been captivated by his uncanny resemblance to Einstein. With his snowy hair, rich brown eyes feathered by fine lines, and deep grooves bracketing his mouth, the man looked unnervingly like the great theoretical physicist. Albeit with a slightly wizardish cast. Even Gwen had agreed with a sunny smile when Chloe had remarked upon it.

“Wh-who is th-that?” Chloe stammered to Dageus.

When Dageus didn’t reply, the elderly man raked both hands through tufts of white hair and scowled. “I’m his da, m’dear. Silvan. ’Tis thinking, I am, that he told you no more than Drustan told Gwen afore he brought her here. Is that so? Or did you even tell her that much?” He shot an accusing glance at Dageus.

Dageus was as still as stone beside her. Chloe looked up at him, but he wouldn’t look at her.

“You said your father was dead,” she said uneasily.

“I am,” Silvan agreed, “in the twenty-first century. But not in the sixteenth century, m’dear.”

“Huh?” Chloe blinked.

“Rather odd when one ponders it,” he allowed with a pensive expression. “As if I’m immortal in my own slice of time. Gives a thinking man the shivers.”

“The s-sixteenth c-century?” She tugged on Dageus’s sleeve in a plea for him to jump right in and clear things up anytime now. He didn’t.

“Aye, m’dear,” Silvan replied.

“As in, you mean that since I’m seeing you—which means either you’re alive or I’m dreaming or I’ve lost my mind—that if I’m not dreaming and haven’t lost my mind, I must be, er . . . where it is that you aren’t dead?” Chloe asked gingerly, making certain she didn’t spell it out too clearly because then she’d have to entertain it as a valid thought.

“A brilliant deduction, m’dear,” Silvan said approvingly. “Though a bit roundabout. Still, you’ve the look of a clever lass about you.”

“Oh, no,” Chloe said firmly, shaking her head. “This isn’t happening. I’m not in the sixteenth century. That’s not possible.” She looked up at Dageus again, but he was still refusing to look at her.

Disjointed bits of conversation flashed through her mind: talk of portals and ancient curses and mythical races.