“They’re covering it up of course,” Sly was saying, “but two flushermen disappeared in the sewers last week and they still haven’t turned up.”

  “My money’s on crocodiles,” Monika replied.

  “There’s no crocodiles in Alderbridge,” Dillion interjected.

  “Not natively, no,” Monika said, “But I heard a few years back some businessman brought a couple over from the colonies as part of a freak-show he was putting on. However, they escaped and fled into the sewers. They say they’ve been feeding on flushermen and toshers since then.”

  “And if those crocodiles, or some similar manner of beast fell under a certain cosmic influence…” Sly muttered in a conspiratorial tone.

  The others groaned in disbelief, as if the thought of two flushermen disappearing wasn’t incredible enough, but the idea of there being supernatural forces and foreign beasts at work quickly brought the conversation off course. In the past, there were a fair number of toshers, those who made their living sorting through the sewage in the sewers, looking for anything valuable they might be able to clean up and sell. It was smelly and dangerous work, with dangers from disease, rats, build up of noxious fumes, and some say even getting flushed away in a surge of filthy water if a sluice gate suddenly opened. Years ago laws had been passed to forbid anyone from entering the sewers without permission, but the toshers continued, often going at night or paying the flushermen they met to look the other way.

  “What do you think, Martin?” Dillon asked.

  “I can’t believe the sewers are that big that two experienced flushermen could just-“ Martin paused his speech as the door opened and he saw Nathan Gascoigne, the lamplighter he had bonded with a few weeks prior, enter the bar. Nathan was clad in his heavy coat and bag of replacement wicks and panes. His right hand held his pole, and he slowed going under the doorway to make sure he didn’t knock it on anything and draw the bartender’s ire. In his other hand was the hand of a young girl.

  Sly caught Martin’s gaze and turned to look. “Must be Gascoigne’s daughter, at least I hope that’s who she is.”

  “You hope he took his daughter to a bar?” Monika asked.

  “Better that than a date his daughter’s age.”

  Gascoigne led the girl over to a table in the corner that had a man waiting for them. They were on the far side of the room so Martin couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying.

  He left the girl there for a moment as he went over to the bar, getting a beer for himself and a glass of milk for her. He put the glass in front of her with a few words, but the girl simply stared at him with a sullen look.

  Gascoigne turned to the other man at the table with a helpless gesture and then pulled out a leather pouch. With a furtive gesture, he glanced around the room as he untied the drawstring and upended the bag on the table, causing a flood of insect corpses to spill out. The girl was seemingly expecting this result but still wrinkled her nose and turned to face the door. The other man had an opposite reaction, his eyes blazing in excitement as he dove in to sort through the collected corpses.

  “Ah, a bug crank,” Sly muttered, suddenly enlightened. “Usually they follow after the lamplighters, trying to collect any insects that fly too close to the lamp and die from the gas or heat. Guess this is a lazier one and has the insects brought to him.”

  Monika suppressed a shudder. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to collect those things.”

  “Like your friend here,” Dillon said, swiping an imaginary insect off Monika’s shoulder. Monika cursed and took a swing at Dillion.

  “I swear, you boys never grow up. I’m going to seek out the company of another lady.” With that, Monika grabbed her beer and walked off to Gascoigne’s table. After a quick word with the lamplighter, she held out her hand to his daughter, who reluctantly took it and followed her to a table near the door, where the window let in some fresh air and the stench of smoke was lighter.

  “What’s she so angry about?” Dillion asked, taking a heavy drink from his pint.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Can’t imagine,” Martin muttered. “I’m going to relieve myself. Why don’t you lads get another round?”

  “I do believe…” Sly reached into his pockets to jingle the coins inside. “It’s my turn.”

  “Thanks. Be right back.”

  After taking care of business, Martin made his way back into the room. Monika caught his eye and waved him over before he could return to Sly and Dillion for a fresh pint.

  “Martin, meet Margaret,” Monika said by way of introduction. The young girl gave Martin a brief nod before returning to stare at her milk. At some point, the glass had made it from the table with the insects to this table and had a single drink taken from it.

  “Pleasure to meet you. Your father speaks very highly of you.”

  That caused her to look up at him.

  “Does he now? What would he know?”

  “He’s your father. I imagine he knows quite well.”

  “The only thing he knows well is the insides of a gas lamp and the bottom of a bottle.”

  Martin and Monika exchanged a look. Martin, being caught without his drink, inclined his head indicating Monika should speak.

  “Listen, Margaret. I’m sure there’s been a lot of hurt and disappointment—Even we’ve seen some of that here—but he’s trying. Maybe cut him some slack?”

  “Mom cut him about as much slack as he could take. He just about hung her with it.”

  “What do you mean—”

  “Are you being good, Madge?”

  “I told you not to call me that. My name is Margaret.”

  “Right, sorry my little pearl. Margaret it is.”

  Having finished his business with the bug crank, Gascoigne had wandered over to the table.

  “Good to see you again, Nate,” Martin said by way of greeting. “A little side business?”

  “That’s right. Some young lord’s son with a passion for taxonomy. Pays pretty good for any rare or unknown bugs I’ve found. They all look strange to me so I tend to just pick up any that catch my eye and leave it to the expert to separate the moths from the maggots.”

  Gascoigne began to laugh at his own witticism but was cut off by the voice of the bartender.

  “Nate, blast it. Get the rest of these damn insects off my table.”

  “Be right back, my pearl.”

  Margaret rolled her eyes.

  “When you’re not hanging out at bars selling insects what do you get up to?” Martin asked, trying to fill the silence. “Your dad mentioned you were a strong reader.”

  “I’ve got a boyfriend.”

  “Have you now. How old were you again?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re a creep like my father.”

  Monika laughed into her beer.

  “No, of course not. Nothing like that.” Martin stammered. “I was just surprised is all.”

  Monika leapt in to save him.

  “He’s an old man. He doesn’t recognize that times are changing. So tell me about your boyfriend. Is he cute?”

  “He’s handsome. He’s got dark eyes and his hair back in a bun.”

  “Wonderful. I’ve often suggested my younger brother grow his hair out like that, but he’s afraid of it being too womanly.”

  “Yes, you mentioned your brother earlier.”

  It was Martin’s turn to hold back a laugh. He wished again he had his beer to hide behind. He glanced over at the other table but Sly and Dillion had turned to talk to another patron and weren’t paying him any mind. His beer sat unattended on the table, slowly getting flatter and warmer.

  “Did I?” Monika said, seemingly missing how true to character she had been. “So how’d you two meet?”

  “Through the Brethren."

  “The Brethren?” Martin asked.

  “A cult,” Gascoigne answered before his daughter could. “A bunch of swindlers and thieves and I told you not to associate with them Madge.”

  “Mom associated with them. She said they were good people.”

  “And some good it did her. She had nothing to show for all those meetings and healing but more debt for us.”

  “You know they won’t try to collect on those debts. The Brethren have been looking out for me since Mom died.”

  “A debt is always collected—even if the money isn’t.” Gascoigne drained the rest of his beer and set the glass down heavily on the table. “I’ll need to get started on my route soon and need to get you home before that. Come on, Pearl. Finish your milk and let’s head home.”

  The father-daughter pair bickered for a moment about finishing the milk before Monika kindly offered to drink it, and settle the tab for it. Gascoigne thanked both her and Martin for being sympathetic and led his reluctant daughter out of the bar and into the late evening.

  “Quite the pair,” Martin said as soon as the door had closed.

  “She’s young. She’ll grow out of it. I used to hate my dad as well. Come to think of it, I hated all men but my brother.”

  “So you didn’t grow out of it at all.”

  “Don’t you start. But… I wonder what she meant by that stuff about her mom and his slack.”

  “I’m not sure, but it didn’t sound good. Have you heard of the Brethren before?”

  “I’ve been trying to remember.” Monika took a sip of the milk and made a face. “I can see why she didn’t want to drink it. Tastes like something from the Northern Village.”

  Martin shot her a glare and she stammered. “Just a joke. Things were getting a little depressing in here. If anyone would know about the Brethren it would be Sly.”

  “Right you are. Should we go join them?”

  Monika dropped the glass off at the bar with a quick explanation to the bartender. He was usually a man who hated waste, but with Gascoigne being involved he was more understanding and didn’t charge Monika for the glass. In return, Monika purchased another beer and both parted happily. Martin reclaimed his own glass from the abandoned table and together they joined the circle of dockworkers. The topic of Gascoigne and the Brethren was quickly forgotten, but those things quickly forgotten are often the quickest to come back when least expected.