The market was near closing time. My visit to Gregor with Blackbird had delayed me and I had almost forgotten my invitation to meet Andy the honey-seller at the cafe. It was an outside chance that he'd appear, but having made the offer I felt honour-bound to at least turn up.
I sat in the cafe window, watching the market traders beginning to pack up their wares and close down their stalls. The idea of using someone to set up some sort of bridging arrangement with the fey courts appealed to me, but it needed someone the inmates would trust to front it. Andy had the potential, but I had to find him before I could pitch it to him. I'd been here for an hour, but there was no sign of him.
The trader I'd left the coat with said he still had the coat under the counter, so Andy hadn't been and gone without seeing me. Of course, it was possible that I had scared him off — having been arrested and carted off to Porton Down can't have done a lot for his trust for authority. He might have decided to abandon coat and money, cut his losses and run, but I thought not. He'd been arrested here in the first place. He'd returned here after the escape. Something was bringing him back, and I was hoping he would show himself sooner or later.
I had to admit, though, it didn't look like it was going to be today. Maybe if I came back tomorrow I would have more luck. I thanked the waitress who cleared my cup away and headed out into the market. I stopped at one of the stalls selling fruit. The stallholder was bemoaning the figs he had for sale, saying they were too ripe to hold onto and he was going to have to chuck them out the next day if someone didn't buy them. I hesitated, wondering if Blackbird liked figs.
That was when the half-seen figure crossed my vision. It wasn't that I recognised him, but that I didn't really see him. When I turned to look there was no one there. He was using glamour to conceal himself.
I left the fruit-seller and walked swiftly to a parallel row, following along with the path I'd vaguely seen from the corner of my eye, trying to catch a glimpse of shadows that shouldn't be there or places where I had the sudden urge to look away.
I tracked back towards the stall where his coat was, being careful to keep out of view. I circled around, keeping stalls between me and the path he was likely to take, and came out near where I had left his coat. Andy was talking to the owner of a stall selling Caribbean foods with his back to me. The owner pointed to the stallholder with the coat. He thanked the guy and walked over to the stall, taking my bait.
I waited out of sight until he was talking to the stallholder. The coat was produced and he grinned, clearly pleased to have it back. He slipped into it, shrugging it onto his shoulders and patting the pockets. He pulled out the money I'd secreted and hefted it, making some remark to the stallholder. I edged forward, waiting for him to read the note I'd left with the money. As I did, the stallholder lifted up the rucksack and then noticed me, pointing me out to Andy.
Andy's reaction was immediate. He sprinted for the aisle, knocking over a tray of apples in the process, scattering them across the concrete. The stallholder shouted after him, gesturing after him as he raced away.
I was already moving after him, heading down a parallel row of stalls, catching glimpses of the flying coat as he ran ahead of me. He turned into the side street, heading back where he went before. I accelerated, figuring he was going for the same exit. As I tuned into the back street he was running ahead of me, coat flying out behind him. He didn't even look back, he skidded into the blind alley.
I slowed to a halt at the mouth of the alley. A little way in the coat was sprawled across the floor, abandoned. The bag of money was discarded too, thrown against some of the bin bags further in. Of Andy there was no sign. I drew my sword and edged into the alley, scanning the walls and the high roof, looking for an outline that didn't fit. I'd been only seconds behind him. Unless he could fly or run up sheer walls he had to be here somewhere.
"Andy? Come on out. I won't hurt you. I want to talk to you."
There was no reply. After a few moments I summoned up the courage to explore deeper, finding only old bin bags and rotting vegetables. I turned around in the alley, looking for hand-holds and climbing places. There was no obvious route upwards, but he'd used this alley twice now. Was there some means of escape that I was missing? I rattled the thin windows and checked the roller shutter again. Did he have some way of opening and closing it quickly and quietly?
I put my sword away and placed may hand on it, willing it to open. The cold metal was unresponsive, and when I tried to lift it, it clacked noisily but wouldn't budge. It left a finger-width gap, but that was all.
Turning slowly, I looked for trapdoors or drain-covers that might hide an exit underground, kicking aside bin bags to see what was underneath, but there were none. Walking slowly back along the alley I picked up the coat and the money. I hefted the money as he had done.
This clearly had value to him, he'd been pleased to receive it back. So why abandon it? The same with the coat, it was bulky, yes, but why leave it behind? I was beginning to think he was sprouting wings and flying away over the rooftops, which might explain the coat, but not the money. Why not take it with him?
Shaking my head I took it back to the market. The stallholder was not pleased to see me.
"He was fine until you turned up. Owe you money does he?" he said, hefting boxes of fruit onto a sack truck.
"I just want to talk to him."
"Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you? Thought of that, have you?" He carried on loading.
"Look," I said. "If I don't talk to him he could be in trouble."
"Police are you?" he asked. "Show us your badge."
"Not police, this is a private matter, and I think Andy will want to keep it that way."
"Bonking someone's missus is it? The quiet ones, they're always the worst."
"As I say, it's a private matter." I let him come to his own conclusions. "He's come to you twice now, he'll come back for the coat when he thinks the coast is clear." I held out the bundled coat.
"I ain't looking after it. Look what happened, you scared him into tossing my stock half-way round the market."
"You still have the rucksack, and I apologise for the damage to your stock." I fished out a tenner from my wallet. "That should cover any damage."
"Nah, I don't want your money. Give it 'ere." He took the coat from me.
"I've slipped a note into the inside pocket for him, make sure he knows it's there."
The stallholder tucked the coat away. "You've warned him off now. Can't you let him alone? He don't mean no harm."
"He's not in any danger from me. I only want to talk to him."
"Yeah, funny how those sorts of conversations end up with broken bones, ain't it?" he remarked, assessing me.
"Just make sure he gets the message," I said.
"All you have to do is find them and bring them in. That's it," Garvin said. "That's the job."
"It's not as simple as that," I said. "Amber and I went after this group and they were prepared. Now they know we're after them they'll be even more careful. It's not just me that can't find them, Amber hasn't been able to track them either."
"Meanwhile you want to give that Scottish git more ammunition," said Garvin.
"He has access to information that we do not," I pointed out. "We need to know what else has been stolen — not just trinkets and home comforts, but odd things — items that might have some symbolic significance."
"Why do you need to know this again?"
"Blackbird thinks they might be trying to create some sort of ritual, or to prevent one. You remember the fuss about the Quit Rents Ceremony? She thinks it might be something like that."
I carefully didn't mention Gregor. Garvin wouldn't be keen on Blackbird's involvement, but getting an outsider involved would not meet his approval at all.
"Is there nowhere else you could find that out?"
I thought for a moment about asking Sam Veldon. He worked for the security services and might have access to this information, but it would be outside of his normal sphere of interest and asking the wrong questions in that environment tended to draw attention. I had used most of my favours with Sam getting Alex back — he was unlikely to be helpful.
"Unless you have some other contacts with access to the police computer systems? That'll be the quickest way to find out what's going on — if we can narrow it down to thefts from museums, private collections, art galleries and anywhere else with artefacts which might have symbolic significance, stolen between the summer solstice and now, that should give us enough to work on."
"And if I get you this list, what are you going to do with it?" he asked me.
"That depends what's on the list," I demurred.
"You're sure this isn't one of Blackbird's games?"
"To what end?"
Garvin sighed, "It's enough that she goes off on wild goose chases, Niall, without sending the Warders off on one as well."
"Aren't you always telling me to find out what I'm walking into before I engage?" I asked.
"Don't quote me back, Niall. I haven't the patience for it."
"We know they've stolen a feather and a key. The question is, what else have they stolen, and what will they go after next? I thought you'd be pleased that I was following my training."
Garvin raised an eyebrow, then folded his hands. "OK, I'll put a request in today. I don't know how long it will take them to respond. I'll get back to you when they do."
"Thanks," I said, standing. "Oh, and I'd like to borrow Amber, if I may?"
"Amber? Why?"
"I've tracked one of the escapees down, but every time I have him cornered, he disappears. I think it would be easier with some backup."
Garvin studied my face for a moment. "Very well. I'll talk to her."
"I've already mentioned it to her. It's OK with her if it's OK with you," I said.
"She's a Warder, she doesn't need permission," he said.
"She seemed to think it would be best to clear it with you first," I said.
Garvin looked at me long and hard. "Amber hasn't asked my permission to act on anything for a very long time."
"I'm only saying what she said to me."
"I'll speak to her," said Garvin, "but it's fine. In fact, I encourage you to work with the other Warders. Maybe some of their experience will rub off on you."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
I turned and walked away.
"It's kept them alive," Garvin called after me. "You might want to bear that in mind."
At whose expense, I wondered.
"You don't need me for this," said Amber. "It's a job for one."
"You agreed to help," I pointed out.
"I thought he was dangerous. From what you've said, every time he spots you he takes off. That's hardly a threat."
"I still haven't managed to catch up with him."
She shook her head. "You're making it too easy for him — approaching in plain sight, announcing your presence before you need to — no wonder he gets away from you. If you're going to use those tactics you're going to have to learn to run a lot faster."
"I don't want to scare him. I'm trying to build trust."
"Perhaps that's not working out so well for him?" she suggested.
"Look, Amber, are you going to help me or not?"
She studied me for a while, and then nodded.
"Twice now I've chased him and each time he's come to this alley. Where he goes, I don't know, but he comes round here and then vanishes."
She turned around slowly, checking walls, floor, the rolldown shutters and the slot windows. "Not many places to go. Are you sure he isn't hiding out until you've gone?"
"Where?" I asked.
She drew her blade and poked through some of the binbags, finding only discarded waste and flies.
"My plan," I explained, "is to wait for him to appear and then introduce myself. I'll try and talk to him. If he bolts then he'll likely come here, where you can be waiting for him."
"Cornered animals fight harder," she remarked.
"I only want to talk to him. There's no reason for a fight."
"On your part, at least," she said. "We don't know about him."
"He hasn't shown any inclination to fight up until now. Let's keep it that way, shall we?"
"It would help if you knew what talents he possesses — evasion is clearly part of it."
"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.
"Or what?" he said. "Will you cut me with your sword? You can kill a few of us, but we are many, many more than you can imagine."
In answer Amber held out her arm and flames licked up her wrist up onto her hand, rising until heat haze shimmered from it. "We all have our talents," she said.
"Enough," I said. "Stop it. Amber, please don't. It's not helping. Andy, I'm sorry, it seems like I've been pursuing you but actually I want your help."
"You have a strange way of asking for it." The circling of the bees continued.
"I know, and I apologise. Can we talk? I think you may find what I have to say interesting, and it could help you and potentially others like you — like us."
"Us?"
I glanced at Amber. "As she said, we all have our talents."
"What's yours?"
"I could show you, but I'm not sure your bees would like it. Another time, maybe."
"I don't want you here. Go away," he said.
"I wish it were that simple. I know where you were taken, what they did to you."
He shook his head, denying my words. "How can you know? You weren't there. You don't bear the scars. I should know." There was anger in his words now, and remembered fear.
"I was there, but at the end. I was the one who broke in, a… colleague and I, we stopped it. We were the ones who finished it and set you all free." It felt wrong portraying myself as a hero, when what I'd done felt far from heroic, but perhaps Andy needed something to believe in, something to connect with.
"Why? Why should I believe you?"
"Because you can hear it in my voice. Because you know I'm telling the truth. I didn't go there to rescue you, it's true. I went to free my daughter who was there with you. I rescued her, but I set you all free."
"You brought the darkness?"
To him, as an inmate of Porton Down, where the lights blazed twenty-four hours a day every day, it must have seemed like that. Raffmir and I brought darkness to a place that knew only light.
"I brought the darkness. As she said, we all have our talents."
He looked thoughtful, glancing across at the hives and then back at us. Then he came to a decision.
"Go away," he said. "Leave the hives alone."
"I need to speak to you."
"Go back down, and I will come to you. Go back to the market. I will find you."
"You'll come?"
"If you leave now."
I glanced at Amber.
"It's not like he can run off somewhere," she said quietly. "He'd have to take the hives with him, and it's not easy moving them. The bees know the area. They're creatures of habit."
"OK," I called to him. "I'll wait for you."
We climbed down and made our way back through the flat, locking the door after us.
"How did you know where he was?" I asked Amber.
"Bees fly horizontally unless you give them a reason not to. There were no bees at ground level, so they had to be up a height somewhere. The rooftop is an obvious place. Plenty of room, and no one to disturb them."
"He keeps the bees, and they keep him," I said, remembering him selling the honey.
"He is the bees. What do you want to say to him?" asked Amber as we made our way back to the street.
"I want his help in bringing together the escapees. He tried to organise them in Porton Down, so he knows some of them — more than most, anyway."
"He tried to organise them," said Amber. "Figures."
"I think he could be helpful," I said.
"Bear in mind he won't travel far," she said. "He's ruled at least partly by his animal shape. By winter he's liable to be mostly dormant."
"The other inmates may trust him. You've seen how little they trust anyone else."
"Well, you don't need me for this. Are you OK to find your own way back to the courts?"
"I'll be fine. I'll join you later," I said.
A smile touched her lips. "Don't get yourself stung to death."
When I got back to the courts, Garvin wanted an update.
"So you didn't bring him in?" he challenged.
"I'm not sure anyone could make him go anywhere he didn't want to go," I said.
"Amber did say it was unusual."
"He's tied to the hives in ways I probably can't comprehend. He can't move anywhere any more than the bees can. If I brought him here, he couldn't stay for more than a short while. It's not a choice, it's how he is."
Garvin raised an eyebrow. "Do you think he can have children?"
"What kind of a question is that?" I asked. "Can Lord Kane? Or is there a risk of kittens?"
"You need to be careful, saying things like that," said Garvin.
"Because Kane's fey, or because he's a Lord of the Seven Courts?"
"Both, and because he's liable to tear your heart out and eat it," said Garvin.
"He's promised not to harm me."
"Then it's his word that's standing between you and sudden death. How far do you want to test it?"
"Point taken."
Garvin folded his hands. "I'd rather you didn't test his level of patience."
"My point is that it's not an appropriate question in either case. Sure, Kane is one of the Lords and Ladies, but why is it anyone's business whether Andy can be a successful father? That's between him and his partner, if he has one, surely?"
"The courts have an interest in the fertility of the halfbreeds, you must understand that. It's why they exist."
"No," I said. "It's how they came to be, but it's not why they exist. They exist for themselves, not because someone in power called them into existence, and not because they live to serve. They are themselves. We have to stop thinking of them as an experiment, and start thinking of them as people. Otherwise this will all fall apart. Don't you see?"
"I live to serve," said Garvin, "and I don't see anything wrong with service."
"Then that's your choice," I pointed out, standing, "but it's not their choice and you can't force it upon them."
I left him with that thought, and as I left I thought I heard him make some comment behind me, but it was lost in the background noise. It seemed to me that Garvin was more difficult to deal with each day, but perhaps it was simply that I kept bringing him more and more unsolvable problems.
I stretched my back and rotated my shoulders. It had been long day and I needed rest. I resolved to go and find Blackbird and try for an early night, though my son might have other ideas.