'There's not enough information in the files to make any sense of it. We'll have to play it by ear. Are you OK with the plan? You'll have to wait here.'
She leaned against the wall by the down-pipe. 'I'm good at waiting.'
As I watched, she closed in on herself, settling into stillness. After only a moment or two she might as well have been part of the wall.
'Great,' I said, wishing I was more confident.
I made my way back to the market, wandering through the aisles and keeping a low profile, hoping to see Andy before he saw me. I looked for signs of someone using glamour — the faint heat haze in the air where someone is trying not to be seen, the unaccounted urge to look away when someone passes. As it was, I needn't have bothered. Half an hour later, Andy walked through the market wearing the coat, carrying the rucksack I'd left with the stallholder. Having escaped twice, he'd developed a boldness to his approach and sauntered casually through the stalls, greeting regulars by name.
I followed him through the stalls, watching him ply his trade. He sold jars of honey to a couple of stallholders, exchanging the golden jars for coins and notes. I began to see that he wasn't trying to supply the market with honey in bulk, but was selling jars individually to the stallholders themselves. The comment the guy who'd kept his coat had made about him charging retail price began to make sense. He wasn't looking for trade, he was looking for customers.
I followed him to the guy I'd left his coat with, and he stopped there and spoke with him. He passed over a jar, gesturing that he would take no money for it. It was a reward for returning the coat, perhaps. I waited out of sight until he finished his conversation and moved on, winding his way through the stalls. I placed myself in a position where he would be coming towards me on his way back out again, leaning casually against a pillar so that he could see I wouldn't chase him.
As he turned the corner and scanned the stalls he spotted me. I tried for a wave of the hand as a casual greeting, but he interpreted my move as a threat and bolted for the side street. I ran after him, tracking his progress out of the market into the street, heading for the alley.
I was only moments behind him. He had the rucksack hampering him and the coat flying out like a banner behind him as he ran. As soon as he came to the alley he dipped sideways.
I came around the corner to find him standing, arms raised and held out from his body. In front on him, Amber held her sword level with his throat, the tip of the blade only inches from him. Poised, she stood like a dancer. He looked back at me as I caught up behind him.
'It's OK,' I said, slightly winded, 'We only want to talk. She won't hurt you.'
'Buuddzzz,' he said.
I looked at him. 'What?'
There was something strange about him. His skin became bumpy, as if some disease was erupting from within him. His form rippled as he swayed drunkenly, Amber's blade following his movement. It was as if he was no longer able to support his own weight.
Amber said, 'What the…?'
His skin broke into fragments and evaporated, falling away to reveal a living crawling mass of tiny creatures. They streamed into a flying mass, spiralling out from the manshape, the coat and rucksack falling to the ground amid them. Amber and I staggered back from the swarming, circling mass as they filled the alley with their buzzing, rising and swirling upwards in a harmonious melee, spilling out over the roof until they vanished out of sight.
'Bees.' I said, finally grasping what I'd seen. 'He's made of bees!'
'Shapechanger,' said Amber, 'and not one I've seen before. Come on.' She headed out of the alley.
'Where are you going?' I asked. 'We're never going to catch him now.'
'That's where you're wrong,' she said.
I raced after her as she headed down the side street, rounded the block and turned back on herself into the shopping street that fronted the row. She scanned the skyline.
'Not far then,' she said.
'What's not far?'
'You see any bees?' she asked.
'No.'
'Quite.' She ran along the row, counting the shops until she came to a vegetarian cafe. 'This is about right,' she said.
She glanced to either side at the private doorways to flats on either side, choosing a black door that looked newly painted. 'Black's my favourite colour,' she explained.
'Where are we going?' I asked.
'You'll see.'
She put her hand on the door and it popped open. Inside was a short hallway with stairs up to the first floor. We mounted the stairs quickly, running along the corridor past a door from behind which a heavy reggae beat was thumping, to the next set of stairs. She didn't hesitate but kept moving upwards. The next floor was quieter, but we went up again. This stairway was narrower and came to a plain door at the top of the stairs.
'Make a wish,' she said.
'What kind of wish?'
'Too late.' She laid her hand on the door and pushed it open. Inside was a small one room bedsit that looked as if it had been ransacked. There were clothes on the floor, hanging from door handles, in piles on the bed. Books and magazines were strewn among the mayhem.
'Is this where Andy lives?' I asked.
'I doubt it,' said Amber. 'Now that would be a coincidence. Besides, I can't see Andy finding this kind of chaos comfortable. He'll be a man who likes things in their place.'
'How do you know that.'
'I don't. But I know bees.'
She threaded her way through the flat until she reached a window overlooking the rooftops at the back. From here you could see the market across the way.
'Perfect,' she said, sliding the window up. She stepped out onto a small balcony.
I followed to the window. She stepped on a planter with an array of brown dead chrysanthemums, up onto the balcony rail and walked around until she could climb upwards onto the flat roof above.
I stepped out, looking over the balcony three floors down to the side street below. My stomach sank as I realised I would have to climb up on the rail. I turned away, looking up to where Amber stood on the flat roof above the window.
'You better come up,' she said. 'You're going to love this.'
Less confident with heights than Amber, I moved the planter to the side where the rail met the wall and then mounted the rail to lean against the wall and scrabble to the roof. When I stood up I saw what prompted her remark.
The rooftop was a repeated pattern of leaded flat roofs and gabled peaks. All down the row, wooden hives had been placed where flat roofs offered a sheltered spot. There must have been eight or nine hives, each one circled by bees visiting or leaving. They flew past us, oblivious of our presence, heading off to roof gardens, parks and window boxes to return with nectar and pollen.
'This is why he keeps coming back,' I said. 'I couldn't figure out why he didn't head off somewhere else where I wouldn't look for him.'
'And now you know,' said Amber.
As we watched, the bees became more active, circling an area near the centre of the hives. Bees circled inwards, landing and climbing on one another until a mound appeared which grew and formed into the shape of a man — a man that became Andy.
'You shouldn't have come here,' he said darkly. There was a hoarse rasp to his voice which made me wonder how much of a struggle maintaining that shape had become.
'I'm not here to hurt you,' I called across the roof.
'In this place, you cannot hurt me,' he said. The buzzing from the hives increased and a column of bees rose from each one, circling menacingly as if looking for a target.
Amber's eyes turned hard as glass. 'You might want to take things easy,' she said quietly.
