"Are you sure this is the right place?" Adrian slowed down as the paved road ran out and turned to dirt. Gravel pinged on the undercarriage of the car. The late afternoon sun was low on the horizon, and a peachy glow was creeping into the bottom half of the blue sky.

"Well, it's where they were living the last time I saw them. Even if they've moved we should be able to get directions." Brendan's reply offered no assurance. Adrian thought about the subdivision of apartment blocks they had just left. He wondered if there were any observant old ladies on the higher floors who had seen them passing by who would be able to give the police directions like in those Nordic detective novels. He wondered if it was a normal occurence.

The road finally ended. There was a wooden post signposting the start of a path, barely visible in between the thick scrub.

They were somewhere lost in the greenbelt that surrounded the inner suburbs of Corviston, in a patch of land under the shadows of the Ring Road. Most of the vegetation was invasive species: Japanese knotweed choked with dodder, and other stuff Adrian was sure was not native.

They got out of the car. Adrian locked it, just to be sure. He sure hoped those observant old ladies had gotten a good look at them.

"Well, I did my work experience in the waste management sector," Brendan had explained earlier.

"What, like the Sopranos?"

"Well, not exactly. There's a lot of dangerous rubbish and it has to go somewhere. Although, if you think of it, there are a lot of parallels with organised crime. We're a lot more anal about our waste, though. Gotta make it disappear. And you know what some of the dirtiest places are? Waterways."

They followed the thin path beaten into the ground further and further into the thick bush. The vegetation thinned out into gravel under the sprawling concrete tendrils of the stack interchange where the M1 met the Ring Road, which stood above them on massive concrete pylons, dripping water down onto the barren ground. A short distance away, the railway mainline to Wythaven passed on a shallow embankment. In between was a concrete lined creek widened into a wide, deep pool, behind a weir.

The concrete banks of the creek were coated in a mix of graffiti and pigeon shit. There was a massive mural of a mermaid sprayed onto the embankment, its eyes seemingly trained on them. In the middle of the pool was an overturned shopping trolley, covered in the battle-scars from countless flash floods prior. On top was affixed a cardboard sign with the words MERMAN EMBASSY spray-painted on the side. Typical fishfolk humour.

A train roared past. Pigeons squawked in their roosts in the overpass above. Bits of dislodged matter from above rippled the water.

There was a recess in the sloped concrete of the bank where a stormwater drain flowed in. It was but a trickle now that there had been no rain for nearly a week. Brendan stepped down into it, as if it was natural to him. Adrian followed hesitantly, careful not to stain his clothes. He watched as Brendan approached the half-submerged shopping trolley and rapped on it three times.

For a few seconds nothing happened. Then Adrian gave a start. There was something moving in the water.

It was a person's face and upper body, attached to the long, slimy tapering mottled grey posterior of a catfish.

To his surprise, Brendan held out a hand to greet the newcomer. "Long time no see, brother. How you doing? This is a bit of a downgrade compared to the place I saw you last."

"Only on outer appearances," the merman retorted. It's lovely. It's got shelter, no cops are ever going to come here. The rogues camped out in the bushes make sure of that." He gestured towards the railway fence. Brendan noticed the tents nestled in the shrubbery for the first time.

"Ringold, this is Adrian." Brendan introduced.

Rin nodded at Adrian. He bent down to take a gulp of the water. "Mmm."

"I don't think I'd drink that." Adrian said.

"You'd be surprised." For the first time they made eye contact. His eyes were perfectly black. "It's perfectly fine. Comes straight down from the mountains. He lapped a mouthful up. It's beautiful. Nothing wrong with it."

"Plenty of fish?"

"You'd be surprised. The eels are insane. You have to know how to catch them, though. Slippery bastards. You need me for something?" He directed the question at Brendan. "Scout out a sewer outlet or something? I'm a bit old for that.

"Er, not exactly," Brendan explained. "We need your help with something which could have some interesting implications on your wellbeing."

"Hang on, hang on. Slow down a bit. What does this have to do with me?"

"This could have some serious consequences of your friends down in the ocean." Brendan said. 

"What the fuck do I care about them." He squinted at Brendan. "We don't talk to them. We're not close. They're too good for us, you know what I mean? They think we're beneath us because their tailfins are too colorful or something."

"They're losing their home and that's all you have to say?"

"What? The sea is basically endless. They can just move somewhere else. There's only that many freshwater places I can go that aren't polluted to fuck already."

"This has implications for you too. If my sources are correct, they're breaking the spell." Brendan continued. "You know what that means for you."

There was silence for a moment. Freshwater merfolk were bound by spells that protected them from diseases. This had all been done a long time ago and the specifics were lost to time, but it was common knowledge that it was connected to the spells that kept the sea-dwellers safe from intrusion. Fiddling with the spells could be dangerous.

"Well, they have to find where I'm living, first. Easier said than done."

"Your friends at Corviston City Water are going to have a field day."

He flinched at the mention of them, but didn't betray any more emotion than that. The first time he had met Brendan was a work experience session where CCW had them teleport their belongings to the other side of the city, under the guise of cleaning up a tributary of the Great Crow River. "OK! I guess I feel sorry for them," Rin said, putting up his hands in mock surrender. "Is that good enough for you? What do you want me to do for you? You want me to go through the sewers and look for something. I'm too old for that shit. The germs will just eat my immune system alive, spell or no spell."

"Not you. Someone you know. Unless you want to go to Wythaven personally or something."

"Where is this. In Wythaven, I mean? Rin's interest had perked up considerably now he knew he would not have to perform the work."

"Western suburbs. A drain outside a factory."

He thought for a moment. "I know someone in Wythaven. He could do it."

"Fifty dollars."

"You need more than that. 125 at the least. This stuff is expensive these days."

"100."

"Deal." 

"I'll pay you when I get the info." Brendan offered.

"Too many fuckers bailing on me. Money, now."

Brendan gave him a crisp 100-dollar bill. He had predicted that he would pull something like this and had made a run to the ATM beforehand.

Rin took it without hesitation. He unfolded it, inspecting the face of Ruth Gray, the watermark. He tucked it into a waterproof pouch clasped to his gill.

"Is that comfortable?"

"Chafes a bit sometimes. Needs a bit of Vaseline now and then. Not a big deal, in the grand scheme of things, don't you worry." He wriggled forwards, further out of the water.

"So how fast can you get this done?"

"Is it urgent?"

"I'm afraid so."

He thought for a few seconds. "My guy in Wythaven's flat out. Give me three days. But I could do it in two." His dark eyes glinted. "For twenty extra."

Brendan muttered under his breath as he handed over more cash. "You know the lake in the park in Diggory?"

He racked his brain. "I might. Awful lot of lakes up there. They're all connected."

"The one with the nice gazebo. You been there?"

"Now I know what that's called. All I know is they get some crazy carp up there."

"Meet me there. And one last thing," Brendan added, "I know you don't talk to your marine cousins, but is there any way you could get a message to them?"

"I know a guy through my local moon temple. He's part of a charity that does outreach in the sea. I'll ask him."

"I didn't know you believed in Monagh."

Rin sighed. "Nobody believes in the old gods anymore. All you do is kaleidoscope every full moon and when you don't you just take a pill. Either way you're filling your body up with chemicals. Now I gotta pray. So skedaddle."

***

"What's kaleidoscoping?" Adrian asked, as they walked back to the car.

"That's where you eat a tab of acid just before you shift on full moon. You've never heard of it?" Brendan feigned an expression of genuine surprise. "What rock have you been living under?""I come from up north, okay. We live simple lives over there."

"I mean, kaleidoscoping's out these days. The big thing these days is the White Wolf. Which is, uh, cocaine. Ever since the Colombian cartels decided it would be easier to offload it here rather than just using us as a transshipment point. Then there's the Parched Wolf, which is ecstasy. And the Moon Moon, which is black tar heroin."

"It's supposed to be a sacred union between wolfkind and the moon, and you're just using it to experiment with drugs. It's not right. You guys need Monagh."

"What? It's a free country. We broke away over this stuff." Brendan trudged ahead slightly.