"Hey, human girl!" She looked up to see the bartender waving at her. He tossed her a pillow. "Your friends are in back. You want a root beer?"

"Yes, please. Thank you." She knew from her first visit that root beer was a dark, foamy alcoholic brew made from roots. It tasted like the beer she was used to, but stouter. She liked it.

The group had gathered at a big round table in a far corner: Cirocco, Gaby, Chris, Psaltery, Valiha, Hornpipe, and a fourth Titanide she didn't know. Robin's drink arrived before she did, in a monster five-liter mug. She sat on her pillow, putting the table at the level of her breasts.

"Are there cats in Gaea?" she asked.

Gaby looked at Cirocco, and they both shrugged.

"I never saw one," Gaby said. "This place is named after a march. Titanides are march-happy. They think John Philip Sousa is the greatest composer who ever lived."

"Not quite accurate," Psaltery objected. "He is neck and neck with Johann Sebastian Bach." He took a drink, then saw Robin and Chris were looking at him. He went on, by way of clarification.

"Without being condescending, both are basic and primitive. Bach with his geometry of repeated sound shapes, his calculus of inspired monotony; Sousa with his innocent flash and bravura. They approach music as one would lay the bricks of a ziggurat: Sousa in brass and Bach in wood. All humans do that to some extent. Your written music even looks like brick walls."

"We had never thought of that," Valiha contributed. "Celebrating a song and then preserving it to be performed exactly the same the next time was a new idea. The music of Bach and Sousa is very pretty, with no needless complications, when written on paper. Their music is hyperhuman."

Cirocco looked owlishly back and forth between the two Titanides, then shifted her gaze to Robin and Chris. She had trouble finding them.

"And now you know as much as you did before," she said. "Never did like Sousa, myself. Bach I can take or leave." She blinked, looking from one to the other as if waiting for them to dispute her. When they didn't, she took a long drink from her glass of beer. A lot of it spilled over her chin.

Gaby put a hand on her shoulder. "They're going to cut you off at the bar pretty soon, Captain," she said lightly.

"Who says I'm drunk?" Cirocco roared. A brown-gold sudsy wave washed over the table as her glass toppled. The room was quiet for a moment, then noisy again as all the Titanides took care not to notice the incident. Someone appeared with a towel to mop up the beer, and another glass was set in front of her.

"No one said that, Rocky," Gaby said quietly.

Cirocco seemed to have forgotten it.

"Robin, you haven't met Hautbois, I believe. Hautbois (Sharped Mixolydian Trio) Bolero, meet Robin the Nine-fingered, of the Coven. Robin, this is Hautbois. She comes from a good chord and will keep you warm when the cold winds blow."

The Titanide rose and executed a deep bow with her front legs.

"May the holy flow unite us," Robin mumbled, bowing from the waist, while studying what she assumed was meant to be her companion on the trip. Hautbois had a plush carpet of hair seven or eight centimeters deep. Only the palms of her hands, small areas around her nipples, and parts of her face revealed bare skin, which was a rich olive green. Her pelt was also olive, but marbled with whorls of brown like fingerprint patterns. Her head and tail hair was white as snow. She looked like a huge, fluffy stuffed animal with big brown button eyes. "You met Hornpipe, didn't you?" Cirocco went on. "Our Horny here is the ... well, call it the grandson of the first goddamn Titanide we ever met. His hindmother was the first Hornpipe's Mix-oeey... ." She paused, having trouble with the word. "Mix-oh-eye-oli-nee-an. Mixoiolinian. She was the first Hornpipe's Mixoiolinian get. Then she bred with her forefather. That doesn't sound so hot from the human standpoint, but I assure you it's great eugenics with Titanides. Hornpipe's a Lydian Duet." She belched and looked solemn. "As are we all."

"What do you mean?" Chris asked.

"All humans are Lydian Duets," Cirocco said. She produced a pen and began drawing on the table.

pM F =>

F*M AH

"Lookee here," she said. "This is a Lydian Duet. Top line is female, bottom line male. The star is the semi-fertilized egg. The top arrow shows where the egg goes, and the bottom arrows show who fucks who, primary and secondary. The Lydian Duet: foremother and hindmother are female; forefather and hindfather are male. Just like humans. Only difference is Titanides have to do it twice." She leered at Chris. "Double the pleasure, huh?"

"Rocky, hadn't we better-"

"It's the only mode where Titanides get together the same way humans do," Cirocco said, hitting the table with her fist. "Out of twenty-nine possibilities this is the only one. There's duets that are all female, three of 'em. Aeolian Duets. Lydian Duets all have a male, but often as not he's the hindmother." She frowned and counted on her fingers. "More often than not. Four out of seven. In the Hypolydian the female fertilizes herself frontally, and in the Locrilydian she does it to herself anterally. An-teer-e-or-ly."

"Rocky... ."

"Does she really have intercourse with herself?" Chris asked. Gaby gave him a disgusted look, but it hardly mattered since Cirocco did not seem to have heard him. She was nodding over the table, peering at the diagram she had drawn.

"Not as you are thinking," Hautbois volunteered. "That's physically impossible. It's done manually. Semen is collected and then implanted. Semen from a rear penis can fertilize a front vagina, but only on the same individual, not between-"

"Folks, folks, give me a break, please. How about it?" Gaby looked from one to the other, finally settling on Cirocco. She grimaced and stood up. "Ladies and gentlemen and Titanides, I had hoped to get this trip under way with a little more organization. I think Rocky had some things she wanted to say, but what the hell. That can wait."

"C'n wait," Cirocco muttered.

"Right. Anyway, the first part of the trip is dead easy. We'll just float down the river without a care in the world. About all there really is to do is load everything onto the boats and shove off. So what do you say we get up and get going?"

"Get going!" Cirocco echoed. "A toast! To the road! May it lead to adventure and carry us safely back home." She stood and raised her glass. Robin had to use both hands to lift her own, which she shoved out into the middle with the others in a great clinking and sloshing of beer. She drank deeply and heard a crash. The Wizard had fallen off her stool.

She had not, however, passed out. Robin could not decide if that was to be desired or not.

"Hold on a minute," she said, patting the air with her hands. "You know how it is with beer. Gotta powder my nose. Be right back, 'kay?" She lurched off toward the front of the room.

There was a scream. While Robin was still wondering who it had been, Gaby was up and over the table, somehow managing to shoulder her way through the press of Titanides.

"He's here, he's here! It's him!"

She now recognized the voice as Cirocco's and became curious as to what could have frightened her so badly. Robin was having her doubts about the Wizard's character, but she had not judged her for a coward.

A crowd had formed at one end of the bar, near the door. There was no hope of someone her size seeing over the high horsey hindquarters, so she leaped onto the bar itself and was able to walk almost to the center of the disturbance.

She saw Cirocco being comforted by a Titanide Robin did not know. Gaby stood a little distance away. She held a knife in one hand while with the other she made motions to the man cowering on the floor in front of her. Her teeth showed in the flickering lamplight, bright and feral.