A beautiful castle... No time for strolling, Illya lectured himself. Somewhere, in this castle, was a sleeping beauty. Well, a new kind of. Thrush wizards put a spell on his friend. He had to break it. He hoped he would have to...

He stopped before climbing up to the yard. No guards patrolling. That was a relief ! Or not. He froze at this thought : no guards could mean something frightening : no guards, no prisoner... He shook his head, trying to dismiss the idea of his mind. He muttered :« A sleeper doesn't need to be watched out. » « Neither does a dead body... » whispered an awful little voice in his brain. No way ! After all, a fairy tale had to end happily. So, all he had to do was to find his partner and to get ... a Charming Princess.

And to avoid distaff. A child's play.

Waverly read again the last file. He frowned : that was a very amazing affair, as the two others. He had to assign agents to each of them. Why did he keep this one for the two men he was expecting, he couldn't say. Instinct. « He has a real flair for making the right choices. ». He just hoped he'd live up to his reputation. The door opened ;his two visitors came in. They nodded to him and sat down. « Everyone in his place... », he thought. The two young men looked at him, expectantly. Solo mechanically checked his tie ; Waverly cleared his throat.

-Everything and everyone in its place...

Solo raised an eyebrow while the blond man gave a barely perceptible smile. Napoleon nevertheless spotted it and rolled his eyes : this « know-all » Russian apparently grasped what it was about...

The Old Man went on.

-Some bird-watchers of ours have reported very amazing things, young men.

-Does Thrush have insomnia ? Do they need bedtime stories ? - The Russian leaned back in his chair and looked at his partner. -Andersen, Napoleon.

He spoke gently, as a teacher explaining something to a kid. Something obvious to an obtuse kid. Solo tried to avoid looking sulky, and casually asked :

-Andersen ?

-Hans Christian Andersen. Everything and everyone in its place is an Andersen's tale, Mr Solo. Not the most well-known, however.... -Oh, you should rip off this impish grin, my friend... -Miss Dancer flew to Copenhagen two hours ago. The man who went off to learn fear...

Illya Kuryakyn's smile became doubtful.

-First, Andersen, now, Grimm ? And, then, Perrault ? The Little Red Riding Hood ?

-Mr Slate is on his way to Germany, Mr Kuryakyn. And, yes, Perrault, but it's rather the Sleeping Beauty.

Napoleon was at a total loss.

-Would you please explain, gentlemen, for those who don't speak fairy tales ?

-A minute, Mr Solo. About that, ... Mr Kuryakyn is fluent in French and you, almost, aren't you ?

Solo could have heard Illya giggling ; he looked daggers at his partner, but didn't succeed in erasing his angelic smile.

-Bien sûr, monsieur. ( Of course, sir.) But...

-Tu vas pouvoir améliorer ton accent, mon ami. ( You'll have the chance to improve your accent, my friend.)

Solo ignored him.

-What is it about, sir ? What's the connection between those tales and Trush ?

-A few weeks ago, some important people, in Denmark and others Northern countries began to act strangely : at first, they « tidied » up all...their desks, their offices, their home... quite fanatically. Then, they disappeared. At least, they seemed to. Actually, each of them went back to « his place ». A well-known scientist is now a fisherman, as his ancestors ; a banker is a reindeers breeder... They don't remember anything of their jobs, they don't recognize their family...

Illya hissed.

-April'll look for the flute ? Shhh... Napoleon : in this tale, the sound of a flute put everybody in his place... I'll lend you the book... and well, sir, are we to reckon Trush devised a sort of sound wave equipment, more sophisticated than a flute ?

-We are, young man, we are... As you said, Miss Dancer'll hunt the flute. Besides, in Germany, many people died, or were maimed, due to dreadful... and odd accidents : although none of them was known to be suicidal, they ... put their life on the line... in all the ways you can imagine.

Illya turned toward his partner.

-Napoleon, in this tale, the hero, a young prince, doesn't know fear : monsters, pain, death, nothing scares him. He tries everything, all he wants is to shiver... once.

-Amazing... Does he succeed ?

-You'll probably like it : his wife finds the clue...

Solo chuckled. His friend looked overwhelmed.

-It's a tale, Napoleon, The Grimm wrote it for children : don't fantasize about it.

Waverly banged the desk with his briar. It put a stop to their banter. This time, Solo didn't miss the point.

-Perrault ? The Sleeping Beauty ? I guess, some people, in France, pricked their fingers, fell soundly asleep, and nothing can waken them ?

-You put ... your finger on it, Mr Solo. Just like the Sleeping Beauty. Pinpricks on the hands, the arms. Some fell asleep at home, at office. Some were driving... France is for both of you... until our Trush friends use new tales in other countries. Oh, something else, Mr Kuryakyn : a Russian name, « Ruyguény Iousséi »... heard in a conversation, in Paris. Check it...

Waverly dismissed them. On the way to their office, Solo noticed that his friend wasn't yet in the mood for joking. He walked thoughtfully. Solo sighed : he knew this man for five years : two minutes before, he didn't seem at all concerned. Except for mocking at his partner... Now, he fell silent. « Time to use your brain, Solo... »

-Come on, Illya : just now, we're... bird-catchers. You probably know some tale about bird-catchers?

The Russian looked appalled.

-Bird catchers ? No, Napoleon : the sleeping beauty doesn't need any bird-catcher. We'll have to find ... a Charming Prince !

Napoleon Solo forced a chuckle ; he didn't undervalue the situation, but wanted to push his self-contained partner into telling what bothered him, at the right moment.

-Good : April looks for a flute, Mark ... What...

-Ice. The prince's wife dropped ice on his husband, and he... shivered.

The voice was weary and the tone... dull. No way. He had to go further.

-A flute for April, some ice for Mark, and a Charming Prince for us... It looks like child's play !