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chalked across the top of the blackboard in a mismatched style of lettering. Below was a scrawled list.
Chromatic Aberration Kepler’s Second Law Megavitamin Therapy Harlan Ellison’s Green Period The Later Miracles of St. Reptillicus
    Electro stroke his chin with his scaly knuckle. “Rather sparse fare tonight, Bish.”
    “We had to scratch a couple of topics,” said the one-time bishop. “Too controversial, they was. In fact, number seven provoked three brawls, a broken marriage and a scimitar-knifing between sunset and about a half hour ago. I won’t even tell you what that particular topic was, lest you be moved to violence. How about taking Kepler? I’m always good for twenty minutes of heated interchange about that old sod.”
    Electro rested his other elbow on the bar top, making a lesser thunk. “I was hoping to discuss transportation,” he confided. “More specifically, transportation along the River Sneath.”
    Bish made a rude sound. “That’s no fit subject for men of intellect to chew the blinking rag over.”
    “It is, nonetheless, a topic I will pay a small but impressive sum to discuss,” continued the robot. “Earlier inquiries have led me to believe that a few rivermen I knew in former times still travel the Sneath. Should I be able to contact one of them this night, I’d be very pleased.”
    “Ar, you’re iust offering a little cumshaw to me for setting up an interview ‘twixt you and one of these sods who run boats on the river,” said Bish. “Hardly the sort of exchange I anticipated when you entered, mates.” He swayed in Tad’s direction. “Are you as intellectually sterile as this verdant pritz here, young fellow?”
    “If we chat a few minutes about Kepler, will you help us locate the people we want?”
    “Now here’s a true intellectual,” said Bish, attempting to reach across the bar to pat Tad’s shoulder. Instead he slipped, tumbling head foremost into an ice bin behind the bar.
    Tad said to the robot, “Maybe there’s an easier way to contact this Commodore Snow or the other riverboat people you mentioned.”
    “This place is the crossroads of Fetid Landing, the favored hangout of rivermen,” replied Electro. “If Snow is in town, he’ll be somewhere in this vicinity. Perhaps in a private room above. Same goes for Skipper Anmar, Harpoon Louie and One-Eye Reisberson.”
    “Where was I?” Bish, upright again, inserted his little finger into an ear hole to grind out a few flecks of cracked ice.
    “Kepler,” said Tad.
    “Ah, yes, Kepler, the astronomical sod. Let us begin by analyzing his cockeyed notions about— “
    Slam!
    Bam!
    Crash!
    Three people had come tromping and shoving into the cafe, accompanied by a battered and mean-spirited robot. Two of the newcomers were lizard men, red skinned, and the other was an albino catman. The robot had once been painted an eggshell white, but was now much chipped and dirt smeared. Wisps of steam drifted out of his battered ears.
    “Trouble,” muttered Bish. “Whenever you get more than one red liz in a room, you’ve got trouble coming.”
    “All righty,” boomed one of the red lizard men, “where’s the pussy?”
    Bish swallowed, tried to slow his swaying. “Gents, this is a blinking, eating, lodging and debating sort of establishment,” he called out to them. “If you seek—”
    “Stow that dilettante crap,” advised the other red lizard. “We come for the pussy.”
    “I might suggest you fellows try the Temps Perdu Hotel over on Red Snapper Lane across—”
    “We don’t want to buy pussy,” said the catman, his pink eyes narrowed. “We come to fetch home the pussy you’re hiding here!”
    Bish gathered his purple robes tighter around his lean body. “Am I to understand you are alluding to one of my boarders?”
    “That’s right, the blonde pussy,” said a red lizard.
    “Hand her over to us and we’ll drag her home to her goddamn lawful husband,” said the other lizard man. “No trouble