(There once was a ) young sprite who took it in her head to question Queen Mab about Manitou’s Gift, which the queen shunned at certain seasons fitting no pattern the sprite could see She chose a day when little else occupied the court in the Shell Palace, and all the fireflies buzzed contentedly The courtiers’ heads all turned at the sound of a young voice saying, “But your Majesty, surely, your court could go a-hunting?” Silence fell, and the queen turned her head The black swan she had been stroking hissed at the young sprite, and the air of the Great Hall of Scáthbaile turned chill “We not hunt in Manitou’s Gift today, nor tomorrow, nor again until I say otherwise,” said the queen “You would better to go pick berries in the meadows.” “But all the fey go hunting! It is a courtly pursuit! The quicklings go, the fauns hunt each week, and even the pixies !” The courtiers nearest the throne gasped “Silence!” said the queen “We not hunt in Manitou’s Gift today And you, little courtier, had best go to your chambers and to your bed and hope to dream one last gentle dream before I destroy your dreaming forever.” The queen’s son, Puck, turned his head at the last word “Forever, your Majestic Motherliness? That is such a long time I despise forever in all its forms Perhaps, we could settle on a year and a day?” The Queen Mab looked at Puck sternly She did not smile or nod, but she hesitated while the court held its collective breath “Is this little chit one of your conquests, Puck? Has she nodded and winked and made her slatternly way to your bed with her charms, like that Titania!” Puck frowned This was dangerous ground, and the little courtier, while diverting enough in a sunny glade with a bottle of wine, was surely not worth enraging the queen Another course was called for “Mother, you wound a son who is merely thinking of your own prospects and mine with them The word forever is one that Our Enemy has used too often and too loosely Titania believes she rules forever, but it is not so.” “Indeed, it is not,” said Queen Mab The courtiers and chamberlain and servants all nodded vigorously “Indeed, Mother So let us set the word forever aside, and let this foolish young fey go forth with at least the hope of an end to her dark dreams.” Mab waited again before answering, looking up at the chandeliers where a pixie was bound and gagged, slowly dripping blood into her goblet “She might be a spy, O Puck But in Our Mercy we shall grant her hope and the date of an end to her suffering A distant hope And a distant end to suffering, to be sure.” “To be sure, Mother Mab,” said Puck “Now,” said Mab “Does anyone else wish to hunt in Manitou’s Gift this season?” The hall rang with silence as deep as the woods and as final as death The bound pixie in the chandelier stopped struggling and breathed its last Mab