Chapter 3

Phileas awoke with a start, nearly falling out of the chair. Blayne was awake again, and staring at him. "Hello." Blayne said softly. "Nice nap?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." Phileas trailed off, wondering why he was making apologies to this woman, a kidnapper, and possibly a murderer and spy as well. He shook his head. "It's time for you to talk, now. Otherwise, I'll be forced to be most exceedingly unpleasant."

"Let me guess. You're going to get medieval on my buttocks?" Blayne shook her head. "I'd really rather you didn't. And if you want, I'll tell you everything."

"Everything?" Phileas frowned, sensing that there must be a catch.

"Everything." Blayne smiled nervously. "You think I like getting smacked around?" Her voice faltered. "I'm sorry," she said softly, "could you just get a little closer so I don't have to shout?"

"Um, of course." Phileas nodded and approached her.

"You sure you want to hear everything?" Blayne asked quietly.

Phileas nodded. "Positive. Go ahead."

"All right, then."

Blayne pulled herself up on the ropes again, swinging her legs outwards this time and wrapping them around Phileas's neck. She remained in that position for a split second before giving her legs a twist that sent Phileas flying to the ground. She unwrapped her legs before the force could break his neck and let go of the ropes. She dropped into a crouch on the floor and half picked up the still-dazed Phileas. "Alertness to detail, Fogg. 'Why are your wrists bloody, Miss Blayne?' Understand?" Before he could answer, Blayne slammed the top of her head into his face. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

*****

Phileas awoke to find himself tied in exactly the manner he had tied Blayne. Blayne, however, had added a gag to the system. She smiled warmly at him. "Turnabout can be such fun." she noted absently. "Comfy? Good. I promised to tell you everything, and I'm a woman who keeps her promises." Blayne sat down and looked up at Phileas. "Might I just begin with a piece of advice about keeping your nose out of business that isn't yours?"

Phileas mumbled something through the gag.

Blayne sighed and began. "My real name is Brenna Aurelia Blayne-Ravenna. I am an American Agent working deep under-cover in France." She sighed and continued. "Just prior to the death of my husband two years ago, I became aware of a very disturbing plot. Now, the details of this plot do not concern you; I can only tell you that all of the kidnappings in town have been an attempt to find a single boy. A very special boy. My assignment here is to protect him, which I can not do with you snooping around, asking questions, and making trouble!"

She rose and pulled the gag out of his mouth. "Happy?" she demanded. "Because I'm not! You have compromised me and my Charge, you have broken into my home, you have beat me, tied me up, dislocated my shoulder, insulted me, and then pistol-whipped me! You spoke to the Mayor in the presence of one or more servants, didn't you?"

"Um, I... I don't r- really remem- member..."

Blayne sighed and began pacing. "Of course you did. Or you allowed him to otherwise spread around what I have told you, otherwise his son would not have been kidnapped for probably a week or more! Now my Charge is in danger because, by process of elimination, they now know exactly who he is. You're an idiot, Fogg!" Her voice had risen to a yell during the tirade. She approached him with a knife in her hand, and he tried his best to back away. He was amazed when she reached up and cut the ropes on his wrists.

"You may leave now." she informed him. "If you promise to actually leave."

"No! It is my duty to protect those who can not protect themselves."

Blayne shook her head. "Such idealism..." She turned to Phileas. "Why is this so important to you?"

"You seem to know a lot about my family already," he began, "so I guess it couldn't hurt to tell you one little thing more." Rubbing his wrists, he began. "I've always been the protector in my family. I've a younger brother." He smiled faintly. "He wants to be just like me when he grows up... He's, he's just a great kid. Do you have children?"

"Unfortunately not."

Phileas nodded. "Then you may not understand. Once you've felt that kind of need to protect any child, you feel a need to protect all children as if they were that one." He shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I know it sound strange..."

"No." Blayne shook her head. "Not strange at all. Admirable, in fact... I, I didn't know men could feel it, too." She smiled faintly. "But I thought that there were three children at the Magna?"

Phileas nodded. "Yes, my cousin, little Rebecca. She's an orphan."

"That's sad. Does she plan on following in your footsteps as well? What's she like?"

Phileas laughed. "Well, if she's not careful, she's going to get herself arrested. Or shipped off to a convent..."

Blayne laughed. "My mother always used to threaten me with the same thing."

Phileas smiled. "And here Sir Boniface thought it a relatively creative threat."

Blayne sighed. "It's almost day-light. Get a few hours of sleep. The guest-room's this way."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

Blayne shook her head in disgust. "How's the fact that I didn't kill you when you were unconscious strike you?"

Phileas blushed. "Yeah, I suppose... Um, how do you know that you can trust me?"

"You're a Fogg." Blayne smiled grimly.

*****

Phileas awoke feeling worlds better. His neck was, admittedly, a bit sore, but the ache in his head had receded. He was surprised to find fresh clothes, in his size, laid out next to the bed. He dressed and walked out of the room. He found Blayne easily enough by following the wonderful smells coming from her kitchen. His stomach made an insistent noise at him.

Blayne was in the kitchen, once again looking every bit the young man. "Ah, good. You're up. I was just debating whether or not to wake you. Hungry?"

"Famished." Phileas smiled at her.

"Good. 'Cause I always cook too much." Blayne handed him a full plate and sat down to her own breakfast. She ate swiftly, then sat in silence, waiting for him to finish and enjoying her coffee.

"You are an excellent chef, Mrs. Ravenna."

She winced. "Please, Miss Blayne. Better still, Brenna."

He smiled. "Irish, isn't it?"

She nodded. "My grandparents were Irish. Except the English ones."

"Oh, then you do have English blood in you? I'd rather assumed that you disliked the British."

"Can't abide them, actually." Blayne smiled at him. "But that's not really important."

"No, I suppose not." Phileas stared at her. Even knowing that she was a woman, the disguise was still a good one. Rather unsettling, actually. He started as he noticed her face. "You don't have any bruises."

"Makeup." She shrugged. "Well, it would hardly do for the School-Master to be seen about town looking like he'd just been in a barroom scuffle."

Phileas winced at the casual description. "No, I suppose it wouldn't..."

"You're looking pretty messed up, yourself. When you're finished eating, I'll do you."

He shifted uneasily. "Do what to me?"

"The thing with the makeup, idiot." Blayne shook her head. "How hard did I hit your head?"

"Sorry. I guess I should have known that you'd be a deft hand with the makeup brush."

"Well, considering how hot I actually am, it would be hard to pass for a guy without a pretty thick coat." She rose and left the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a small makeup kit."

"That's it?" Phileas asked, pushing his plate aside and moving his chair near hers.

"It's enough for everything I might ever even possibly need to do." She eyed him thoughtfully and pulled out a small container of pigment. "You're pale, I'm going to have to whiten this." She stared from the pallet of makeup to Phileas's face. "Have you ever worn makeup before?"

"Only in training exercises."

She shrugged. "Close enough. At least that means I won't have to listen to you whine about how it itches and it's heavy. And just think, women do it every day. All over their whole face."

Phileas shuddered. "I feel sorry for your gender."

"I'm sure you do. Damn, this isn't going to work. I'm just going to have to do your whole face."

Phileas shrugged acceptance. As she worked, he began slowly, "Look, I really think we need to talk about this situation with the missing boys."

"What is there to talk about? My Charge will be taken and the others returned." She sighed, her mind turning over alternate plans of action. Foremost among those: take Jules herself and get out of the country.

"What is it about these particular children? Why only the ones with top marks?"

"They're looking for a boy who's a genius. Their reasoning is that if they take all the boys who get tops marks, they'll eventually get him." She puckered her lips thoughtfully and tilted his head. "Crude, isn't it?"

"Very crude. But how can they not know who he is and still know about him?"

"Snatches of rumors, I suspect. About a special boy."

"Why do these people want him?"

"I can't say."

"Who are they?"

"Not anyone you need to worry about. Yet."

Phileas stared at her. "We need to get those boys back, Brenna."

"I know." She nodded. Things had already been taken too far from their intended course. There was no longer any way to guarantee the safety of the boys, or of Jules. All bets were off, and all she could do now was to control the damage that Phileas had caused. A voice in the back of her mind, demanding to know how Phileas Fogg could possibly have changed history, was silenced by the rational part of her mind, which said that he had and that nothing else mattered at this point. The knowledge that she couldn't change that hurt. It left her feeling helpless. "There's an abandoned castle about three hours hike from here. That's probably where they're holding the boys."

"We'll leave at once." Phileas rose. "How do I look?"

Blayne handed him a mirror. He stared into it, amazed. He knew that there were bruises on his face. He could feel them. But he couldn't see them.

"You're an artist, Brenna."

"Thanks. Shall we be off, then?"

Phileas nodded.

*****

"How... how do you know about this... place anyway?" Phileas panted as Blayne led him over a hill.

"Some of the boys in town enjoy exploring it." Blayne looked at it. "Under different circumstances, it would almost be beautiful."

Phileas nodded. "I can see where the appeal lies for the boys."

Blayne nodded. "One of them went exploring without telling anyone and got trapped there for three days. Parts are collapsed, dangerous."

"Thanks for the warning. You've been here before? Where would you keep seven boys? The dungeon?"

She shook her head. "No. The stair-well to that is totally collapsed. An eight year old boy might be able to get through, but no adult, and certainly not several who have a struggling child to contend with." She pointed to a large window, high above the ground. "The banquet-hall would be ideal."

"Okay, then we'll start there. Are you armed?"

She shook her head.

"That's bad, considering you refused to give my gun back."

"No guns. No killing."

"But what if..."

"I have my orders. No killing if it can possibly be avoided."

Phileas sighed but was secretly relieved. He'd never had to kill a man before, and did not wish to start now. "Then I take it discretion is the better part of valor?"

She nodded and started for the castle. "Logic dictates that it won't be well-guarded. You wouldn't want to risk having an obvious presence. So, probably, the only guards we'll see will be in the banquet-hall itself."

He nodded. "Care to hazard a guess as to number?"

"One too many." She shook her head. "We'll know when we get there. Are you okay?"

He nodded weakly. "I think I can handle it."

She nodded. "Look at it this way, if it helps: you've always had backup before. This time, I'm your backup. And, believe it or not, I have a vested interest in keeping you alive."

He stared, startled. "Why?"

"I have my orders." She kept walking.

Taking a deep breath, Phileas followed. Once inside, Blayne led him unerringly towards the banquet-hall. She gestured for him to wait, and entered the hall alone. Phileas stared after her, too shocked by the action to move.

"The Count wants to know if you have him?"

"No." a man said, obviously disgusted by his failure. "And that's all seven."

"Then we'll just have to abort."

"No, he must be somewhere in town. We'll find him."

"Let's talk about this. Outside."

Blayne came walking out of the dining hall. A scruffy-looking man followed her. As soon as they were away from the door, she turned around and punched him.

"Oh, very nice." Phileas said, smiling.

"Thank you. There are three more inside."

Phileas smiled. "You realize that that was... suicidal?"

Blayne smiled. "I know my business, Fogg."

"Obviously. Shall we?"

"Think we can take all three?"

She shrugged. "They've got guns." she noted. "But I suspect that we'll manage. Just... keep your head low. Try not to get shot. Take the one on the left, I'll take the one on the right. The third will be obliged to try and deal with the children, which will keep him off of our backs for a minute." She bent over and picked up the gun from the unconscious guard. "If he tries to hurt the children, shoot him. Just try not to kill him."

Phileas nodded. "You know, this is really rather more anticlimactic than I anticipated my first solo mission being."

"Anticlimactic is good, Fogg. It increases your chances of remaining alive. Ready?" He nodded and they rushed into the room, Phileas to the left, Blayne to the right. As Blayne had predicted, the third guard instantly began herding the children out of the room. The fight ended quickly, and Phileas and Blayne rushed the third guard together. Blayne let Phileas deal with him and turned her attention to the children.

"Pierre? Are you hurt? Jean? Philippe?" One by one, the shocked children shook their heads. Louis, the oldest, spoke first. "What happened, sir? They kept asking us these weird questions."

Blayne bent close. "Like what, Louis?"

"They asked about the future, and about--"

"Shh..." Blayne smiled comfortingly. "They were crazy, Louis. But you're okay, now." She looked up to see Phileas rising and dusting off his trousers. "Boys, this is Monsieur Phileas Fogg of England. He's going to take you back to Nantes, now. You can trust him. He's a police-officer sent to rescue you. Go with him and he'll see you safe."

"What about you?" Phileas asked, frowning.

"I'm just going to... cover your retreat. I'll be right behind you."

"I can't leave you here."

"Look, Fogg!" she hissed. "There could be more guards in the castle that we didn't see. Now that they know they're exposed, they could kill the boys. Get them out of here and I'll be right behind."

Phileas turned pale when Blayne mentioned that the guards might kill the boys, and quickly began herding them out. Blayne smiled faintly. She waited until Phileas and the boys were outside before she began searching the castle. She quickly found the room she was looking for. It had been converted into a study. Blayne began searching, throwing anything that caught her interest into a pile. She quickly had a sizable pile. The room looked as though it had been through a tornado.

Blayne picked a sheet of paper out of the pile and shoved it into her pocket. She pulled out her flask and soaked the rest of the papers with scotch. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out a match and ignited it. She watched the papers burn until they had been reduced to ash. Then she fled the castle