Mab's wisdom knows no limits. The only thing of which she is ignorant is ignorance itself. Is there anything she has not seen? Is there any secret whose depths she has not plumbed? Look into the heart of any mystery and you shall find the Unseelie flag already planted there.
How powerful is Mab?
All power is Mab's power.All strength is her strength. No enemy can stand against her unless she suffers them to stand. In war she is unconquered and unconquerable. In persuasion, she is truth itself.
How loving is Mab?
To speak of love is to speak of Mab, for they are one and the same.
Imperial Catechism
ver the years Mab had overcome an array of foes, but the Great Enemy, the one who could never be slain, was boredom.
Mab had attempted every diversion, delved into every fantasy and fetish and addiction. She had gotten lost in music, in dance, in poetry, in cockfights, in mestina. Every pleasure to be had, she had tried: wine, men, women, children, orgies. Sweets, fox hunts, fencing, croquet. Sewing, pottery, Elemental sculpture. Each provided its small measure of diversion; each was a coal that burned bright for its season and then went cold, leaving the taste of its ash in her mouth.
For a hundred years she had tried being a man. She had lived as a hermit, as a peasant girl, as a fox in her own fox hunt. She had been and done everything there was to be and do, but it was never enough.
In order to allay her tedium, she had by virtue of necessity been forced to think big. She had wrested control of the Unseelie Lands millennia earlier, conquered all of Faerie north of the Contested Lands. She had spread her influence over worlds, even destroyed one.
The only one who had ever stood in her way was Regina Titania, and Mab both loved and hated her for that. A small part of Mab prayed that the Seelie queen would never be brought down, because then Mab would have everything; the game would end. And what then?
But Titania tested her and taunted her. The ancient rivalry was not enough. What good was a rivalry if not to win it?
Now matters had come to a head. Her new city was built. The Einswrath weapons were being cast in her Secret City. A very special girl awaited her in Estacana, though the girl didn't know it yet. All the stars were in agreement. The time was now. The final battle in the ageless war was about to be joined.
Hy Pezho, that Black Artist, had given her the means of her sure delivery from this endless fencing match. He had been a genius, a man of towering intellect, who divined the secrets that lay beyond common understanding, who opened a window into places Mab herself had never seen. And ultimately, this is likely why she had killed him. He had upset the balance. Now she had no reason not to answer her own challenge. Now she was forced to move against her ancient foe. Now the battle was, if not a foregone conclu sion, then a near certainty. Hy Pezho had, without realizing it, forced her hand.
He had tried to fool her, of course, as all ambitious men ultimately did. He believed that his genius extended to his charms and political maneuverings, which for their part were as transparent and mundane as the next man's. For that reason she had been required to condemn him to a place of infinite suffering within the belly of the wraith fel-ala. Hy Pezho's own creation. Now that was poetic.
The obvious betrayal was the reason she had been forced to get rid of him, but it was his inadvertent destruction of her status quo that had allowed her to enjoy it so much.
So the war would come, and either she or Titania would emerge victorious. There was a small chance Titania would prevail, of course. The Stone Queen, the Seelie Witch, was at least as crafty as Mab and at least as old. She would be difficult to surprise. Down through the centuries, Titania had learned as well as Mab to read the signs in the stars, the rise of nations, the glint in a man's eye.
All that was now drew inward toward a conclusion. And it was all Hy Pezho's fault. Oh, how she loved and hated him for it.
If nothing else, though, at least it wouldn't be boring.
Three Bel Zheret flowed boldly into Mab's private apartments, without knocking or having their presence announced. That was one of the privileges that she allowed them, as they were able to sense from a distance whether she was receptive to their presence at any given moment. They were tied to her with the Black Art's reflection of Empathy, and she could control them with the slightest twist of emotion; she didn't even need to be conscious of it.
Mab's personal secretary Ta-Hila started when they entered; he, of course, had no way of knowing they were coming. Mab knew that the Bel Zheret made Ta-Hila deeply uncomfortable. That was part of their job.
