Author's Note: For Katherine, the reviewer who wanted to know about 'Belling the Cat'. To 'bell the cat' is a reference to the fable by Aesop (the reputed author of 'The Tortoise and the Hare' and countless other moral tales), in which a group of mice call a meeting to decide how to deal with the terrorizing cat. The story goes that a young mouse finally suggests that a bell be fastened around the cat's neck, so that the mice will always know when she is coming. All the mice think this is a good plan until one old mouse gets up to say: "This plan is a good one, but who will bell the cat?"

According to The Aesop for Children, illustrated by Milo Winter, the lesson of this fable is 'It is one thing to say that something should be done, but quite a different matter to do it.'

In modern usage, 'to bell the cat' mostly means the acceptance of personal risk for the good of the many.

The difference between abbreviated modern usage and the old lesson creates an interesting dynamic. On the one hand, the 'mouse' that bells the 'cat' has done an extremely brave and selfless thing. On the other hand, very few people are willing to risk life and limb for the sake of others.

In short, "Who will bell the cat?" equals "Easier said than done."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 9: In Which Complications Ensue

The chatter paused when a door banged open and crashed shut. An instant later, Glocia de Gilenee stormed past the sitting room entrance and up the stairs in full court dress.

Izark turned to Alef, who had once again taken up his position as the taciturn warrior's social custodian. "What was that about?"

The commander of the Duke's Royal Guards was staring after the young lady. "I have no idea, but Miss Glocia–" He winced as another door slammed overhead. "–is furious." He shook his head. "I don't care what she's upset about; that isn't how a Grand Duchess elect should behave."

Izark glanced sharply at the commander. "Glocia is Jeida's heir?"

"That's right. Unlike Guzena, Zago has no laws forbidding inheritance by women, and his Grace feels that she has the right qualities to succeed to his post." Alef sighed. "It's not that I don't agree with him, it's just that she's not exactly the most level-headed. His Grace is a born diplomat. She is not."

"You worry about her."

"That has been my job description for over a decade," Alef quipped. He looked to the doorway as Rotarna and Koriki shuffled in, glum-faced. "Young masters, what's amiss with the young mistress?"

"Alef," Rotarna greeted the guard, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "You know how it is– how it's been since Father was reinstated."

"Yes, but what is it specifically this time?" Alef insisted, glancing up at the ceiling. "I haven't seen her in this state since…" Again, he shook his head. "She nearly broke two doors just now. What happened?"

"Princess Alehandra." Duke Jeida entered, looking drained. "It would appear that His Majesty's oldest daughter has taken to our Glocia. Her Highness has been quite insistent– and her father supports her argument– that my family and I would do better to take up residence in the Palace for the remainder of our visit." His shoulders rose and fell in what would have been called a shrug in a less aristocratic man. "It would solve a number of inconveniences."

Alef raised both eyebrows. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but that explanation makes no sense. It was only a matter of time before you received a royal invitation– or even a summons– to live in the Palace. As mistress of His Majesty's household, it is the first princess' responsibility to extend such an invitation; as our young mistress well knows. And I have one better: Glocia knows it is her responsibility to facilitate diplomacy between Zago and Guzena by accepting the invitation. I find it unlikely that this tantrum is from reluctance to do her duty."

"Unless the duty in question involves parties, pleasantries, and staying out of the politics," Jeida corrected, "which is exactly what Her Highness expects her to do."

It was Izark's turn to lift his eyebrows. "But Glocia only goes to parties for the politics."

"Well," Alef sighed, "I suppose that makes sense." Just then, his eyes happened to fall on Ashre, who had stood just behind Izark through the entire conversation. The young teenager's cat-like gaze was fixed on Jeida, and her expression said that she could hardly believe what she was seeing. The guard smiled, then said, "But we have been neglecting our duty, Izark." When the warrior looked at him questioningly, he indicated the Kilahb with a nod. The girl didn't seem to notice, intent as she was on the Duke.

"Uh– Yes." Izark moved to the side, giving Ashre and Jeida a proper view of each other. "Grand Duke Jeida de Gilenee of Zago, this is Ashre of the Tazasina Kilahb. Ashre of the Tazasina Kilahb, His Grace Jeida de Gilenee."

It seemed that the sound of her name shook the girl out of her stupor, for she started and, clasping her left fist in her right hand, placed them over her solar plexus and bowed deeply in the tradition of the Kilahb. She did not relinquish this position until she heard Jeida clear his throat.

"Yes, well…" the Duke coughed again, unsure how to respond to this unexpected display of respect. Finally he settled for a similar gesture. When Ashre lifted her head, the Zago nobleman bowed in return.

Unfortunately, this only seemed to increase the clan-girl's awe of him, so that she retreated to hide behind Izark again. The swordsman spared her a quizzical glance, but something else claimed his attention almost immediately. Noriko approached their group, hands outstretched to greet the Duke. The nobleman accepted them, smiling as warmly at her as he would a favorite niece.

"Just the young lady I was hoping to speak with," Jeida said. He sent an amiably nod toward Daisuke and Yuri, who had followed their daughter. "I'm afraid my family and I will not be allowed to enjoy Miss Zena's hospitality–" he acknowledged the Seer, moving aside as she and Niana entered behind him, "or the company of our friends here–" he nodded to the rest of the group gathering around them "–for as long as we would have liked."

Noriko smiled in return, but there was a worry line between her eyes. "Your Grace, um… Glocia…"

The Duke sighed. "She's angry, with reason. Will you please talk to her? Coax her down if you can? You have always been able to appeal to her common sense. We need to discuss this, so that we can prepare a compromise if possible. I do not think it at all appropriate that my heir be left out of the diplomatic proceedings because Her Highness requires a companion. Please tell her that."

The young woman nodded and left the room, heading for the stairs. Izark watched her go, then looked at Niana, Gilenee's lady. "You will be staying at the Palace?"

The short, stocky noblewoman smiled up at the young man, cheerful despite weariness from a day spent acting the genteel ambassador's wife. "It's the most practical thing to do," she told him brightly. "It's not really reasonable for us to be always coming and going like we've been doing these past few days, especially when Zena and Gaya have so many other guests to take care of. Apparently there are going to be some festivities at the Palace soon, and it would be easier on everyone if we were to live at the Palace and visit here, instead of the other way around." She glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Glocia is upset, of course. She's been frustrated these past two years, dealing with… 'Ladies who talk of nothing but lace and courtiers who never think past their own consequence', I think she said." Niana shook her head, concern for her daughter leaching into her smile. "She is learning what my husband learned, only earlier, and harder I suppose. She is expected to be pleasant and entertaining, when all she wants to do is make them see how important it is that they pay attention to the world outside their castles."

Izark's mouth had twitched at the quote. That did sound like Glocia. His expression clouded as he thought about the rest. The swordsman knew that the Grand Duke's only daughter was a passionate girl, with a huge sense of duty to her family and her people. It must have thoroughly galled her to arrive in Selena Guzena fully prepared to take part in the political negotiations, only to be relegated to the position of the Princess' new pet.

As Izark thought, the group surrounding Jeida moved away from the door and spread more evenly across the room. Everyone except Ashre, who rounded on him the minute the others were out of earshot.

"You could have warned me!" she fairly hissed, her thick accent making her sound even more vehement. Then, "How did you know?"

The warrior scowled at the young Kilahb. He was tired of sidestepping questions, but wasn't sure how much information he should volunteer. It didn't help that he had no idea what Ashre was talking about at the moment. Confusion made him more defensive than usual. "Know what? What should I have warned you about? You made Jeida nervous just now, bowing like that when you've only just been introduced. He does not expect to be treated like an idol. Not in this house, anyway."

Ashre stared at him. "Jeida? Jeida? You call the Lord of Gilenee, Grand Duke of Zago, the savior of the Grey Bird Tribe, by his first name?"

"I prefer not to use titles if I can avoid it," Izark replied with a shrug, leaning back against the doorframe. "They're too much of a mouthful, and they tend to impart influence where none is due. If it makes you feel better, I call him Duke Jeida in public, as he is one of the few nobles that I truly respect. So?"

"So what?"

"So, I have answered your question; I want you to answer mine. What is it that you think I know? What is it about Jeida that made you bend yourself in two when he would have been perfectly satisfied with a handshake?"

"If you don't know, then why bring me here?"

"Know what?" the warrior demanded, exasperated, then sighed. "I brought you here to keep you out of harm's way, because Jul– the Sergeant?– needs all the guards he can hire to deal with the mess in Market District. However, someone has been making a profit from the mess, and the last thing they want is a return to order. They're putting guards out of action as fast as Jul can hire them. Now answer my question."

The Kilahb nibbled her lip, considering what he had said. "So you really don't know."

Izark bit back a sarcastic retort. He liked a breakdown in communications no more than the next person. "I know that the Kilahb of Tazasina have been second class citizens since the invasion by the Torakhan Empire six-hundred years ago. While most cultures in Tazasina and the other west coast countries were eventually subdued, the Clan refused to assimilate, and were punished by the invaders."

"You know Tazasina's history. That is not commonly known, even in Mirka-yitht," the Clan girl acknowledged, impressed. "Most people don't even remember that there was an invasion." Her tone had turned sour. "Clan-Father says that the invaders had all the records of the old times destroyed and replaced with lies."

"I was born on the south border, near the Shore." Izark offered, naming the mountain range that served as the northern 'coast' of the Sea of Trees. "It is much more difficult to silence storytellers and their students than it is to burn scrolls. They tell the histories as they were told by others who were told by others, all the way back to the survivors of the invasion. Their version is rather different from the records in the capital." He fell silent for a moment, turning over an idea that had just come to him. "You called Jeida the savior of the Grey Birds. That is true; his mediation prevented a massacre when the Western countries wanted to wipe out the Tribe. As a minority, the position of the Grey Birds is somewhat similar to that of the Tazasina Kilahb. Am I getting warm?" he asked.

Ashre opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the swish of the curtain hung over the entrance behind them. A girl of eighteen or nineteen with reddish blond hair and crystalline blue eyes entered. She was followed by another young woman, this one black-haired with dark brown eyes. They were dressed in some kind of uniform– identical ankle length tunics under short cropped jackets with matching hairstyles.

"Anita and Rottenina," Izark murmured for Ashre's benefit. "Zena's aides."

The blue-eyed girl, Anita, was speaking. "Miss Zena, Duke Jeida, everyone," she addressed the gathering, "Supper is ready. Please come to the dining room."

IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX IX

A little earlier, Noriko stood at the door to the upstairs bedroom Glocia shared with Zena and Gaya. The younger women had tried to work it out so that all five– Anita, Rottenina, Katarina, Glocia, and Noriko– could sleep in Anita and Rottenina's room. It had proved just a bit too crowded, and in the end Glocia had decided that she could forgo pillow fights and giggle-fests for the personal space promised by Zena's larger chamber.

Noriko rapped tactfully on the doorframe, then waited.

"Come in." Her noble friend's voice sounded tight.

Carefully, the Japanese girl went in, closing the door softly behind her. "Auntie Gaya will have supper ready soon. Aren't you hungry?"

Glocia sat at a vanity table, glowering at her reflection in the mirror. Half a head taller than Noriko and thin with her father's angular shoulders, she was dressed to impress in a perfectly tailored vermilion over robe embroidered with winged dinosaurs in the geometric patterns preferred in Zago. A creamy orange under dress– made from fabric so light and fluttery that its sheer, billowing ruffles seemed to waft around her throat, wrists, and feet– softened the sharp lines of the robe. Her glossy black hair was gathered into a net that winked with tiny cabochons of the gem Noriko thought of as tiger's-eye. A small tear-drop of the same stone hung at the center of Glocia's forehead between her regally arched brows (also from Jeida); another, larger cabochon topped the headband to which the hairnet was attached. Smaller teardrops shimmered at her ears. Her large, long lashed eyes had been lined with black, and her lips were stained a deep, dark red.

The effect was stunning and intimidating. This, Noriko knew, was exactly what Glocia had wanted when they had picked out her clothes together that morning. The twenty-one year old Grand Duchess elect was an image of haughty elegance and radiant authority.

At the moment, her expression was even fiercer than her attire.

"No," Glocia told Noriko through clenched teeth, in response to her question. "No, I'm angry. And disappointed. And so, so frustrated." Her knuckles shown white in the folds of her skirt.

Noriko could find no appropriate answer to this comment. It occurred to her that there was no appropriate answer; that conversation was not the best way here. Instead, she stood back and waited for the fury that had been simmering under Glocia's skin all day long to boil over. She didn't have to wait long.

"This is hopeless!" the other girl finally shouted, bringing her fist down on the table so hard that the items on it jumped. "Useless! How am I supposed to learn anything about international relations or treaties or anything while I am stuck exchanging pleasantries with Princess Alehandra? Do you know what she said about the negotiations? She said,'We are above these vulgar dealings.' How can she not realize that it's that kind of thinking that allowed the council of ministers to do whatever they wanted for so many years? Does she even know what is happening in her own capital right now? How is it that nobility– royalty– can have such ridiculous notions about their own responsibilities as leaders? Do they truly believe that they are entitled to palaces and castles simply because their families are landed? That their sole purpose in life is to attend banquets and balls and grace the court? That they can simply shut out all the unpleasantness because it doesn't directly affect them? You don't find that kind of idiocy in the 'lower' classes!"

The young noblewoman took a deep breath and opened her mouth, as if to continue. Instead, she let the breath out. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer. "No, that is not entirely true. There are plenty of rich merchants' brats who believe that they are entitled to everything without working for it. The only difference is in the amount of time they can sustain those illusions before their funds run out." She heaved a sigh and turned on the stool to face Noriko. "The only way to accomplish anything with people like that is to humor them. I keep telling myself that I am learning, just not what I had planned. I tell myself it's practice for keeping my temper in negotiations. Even so, I cannot imagine spending another whole day making small talk with Her Highness, not when I'm supposed to be learning how to govern. I almost burst into tears today, Noriko. She must have spent an hour complimenting my clothes, then another moaning about how it was a pity that I hadn't brought a dancing dress. I wanted to tell her that I wasn't there to dance; that all I wanted to do was to sit in on the negotiations, except that would have been rude. A diplomat may be oily, underhanded, and two-faced, but he or she must never, ever be rude, particularly not to royals. Even if a royal takes no interest whatsoever in the practical side of their status, they can still make everybody's lives miserable if they think you've insulted them." She grimaced. "I'm sorry. I'll stop ranting now."

Noriko smiled at her friend, sympathy in her eyes. She did not relieve her feelings by raging and railing, but she could remember having considered it a few times. "It's alright. Do you feel better? Do you think you can come down and eat?"

"In a little." Glocia looked down at her clothes. "Will you help me change out of this? It would have been appropriate for the proceedings, but a friendly dinner…" She shook her head. Anger had been replaced with dejection and embarrassment.

"Duke Jeida doesn't like it either." Noriko was already opening the trunk that held the young noblewoman's things. "The whole companion to the princess thing." Deftly she selected one of the simple, plain outfits. The cut resembled something the young noblewoman had worn in exile. It was a high-necked overdress in a soft russet color. The sleeveless raglan armholes cut diagonally to the neck band and would not restrict Glocia's strong shoulders as the tailored robe certainly must. A loose fitting petticoat went under it and a shell pink sash wrapped around the waist. "He's hoping you can work out some kind of compromise."

"Mmm…" Glocia responded, carefully working herself free of the embroidered robe, taking care not to tear the perfect seams or stretch the costly threads. After draping that carefully on the single large bed, she unbuttoned the floating under dress and discarded that with less ceremony, flinging it over the decorated headboard. "I don't think there'll be any changing the princess' mind about our moving to the palace, but maybe she'll be content to let me go to the meetings as long as I attend the entertainments she sets up around them." Noriko helped her into the petticoat, then worked on the bottom buttons as Glocia did up the bodice. "We'll see. Her Highness seems to believe– and many nobles agree with her– that affairs of state are beneath her. And of course there is one other problem: aside from Miss Zena, there are no female officials in Selena Guzena. Unlike in Zago, Guzena law and custom actually forbid women from taking leadership positions. Seers are the only exception to that rule." Next came the over dress. Glocia started to pull that on over her head, then reconsidered– she'd forgotten her headdress, which she now removed. Dragging the russet dress on, she spoke to her friend through the cloth. It made it easier to say what she was about to say. "I'm sorry for venting at you. I can't do it in front of Father– he gets as frustrated as me, but he never yells about it. Mother wouldn't understand; she never dwells on anything long enough to get angry with it; and my brothers don't see that there is no satisfactory solution, which is why I'm ranting in the first place. But you already know that, don't you?" She got her arms through the armholes and shrugged the dress on, then buttoned the neck band. She smiled at her friend and accepted the pink sash Noriko was holding out. "Thanks for letting me yell. I'll be down soon."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's Note: So, there are probably some people thinking things like, 'Get on with it!' or 'So when does tomorrow start?' Well, here's my answer:

I don't know. ('^_^,)

However, I do know where the story is going, and I will finish it. So thank you, dear readers.

~Muse

P.S. Concerning Glocia's rant. Cut it? Keep it? Or, put it someplace else? Please review.