"I know you will."
The column moved on. The plateau gave way to another climb, gentler than the morning's but longer, the road switching backand forth across the face of a ridge. The sun was behind them now, casting their shadows long and strange across the snow.
The light was fading when the column crested the ridge and began the descent into a valley Mab hadn't known was coming.
She'd been dozing again, her head heavy against Varek's shoulder, when the change in the air woke her. Warmer. Wetter. A faint smell of minerals, like the water that came up from the deep well at the holding after a heavy rain.
She lifted her head.
The valley spread out below them, a bowl of green in the middle of all the white and gray. Steam rose from pools scattered across the valley floor, curling into the cold air like breath. The snow stopped in a ragged line halfway down the slope, giving way to moss and scrubby grass that shouldn't have been able to survive this high up.
"Hot springs," Varek said against her ear. "The mountain bleeds warm here."
The column picked its way down the slope, horses stepping carefully on the wet rocks where snowmelt and steam had made the footing treacherous. The air grew warmer with each switchback, until Mab found herself pushing back her hood and loosening the ties of her cloak.
By the time they reached the valley floor, she was almost comfortable.
Varek lifted her down from the saddle. Her legs protested less than yesterday, though they still wobbled when her feet hit the ground.
"We'll make camp here tonight," he said.
Mab looked around the valley. The steam rose from pools of varying sizes, some no bigger than a washtub, others large enough to swim in. The water in them ranged from clear to milky blue, and the rocks around their edges were stained with mineral deposits in shades of orange and white.
"Can we—" She stopped herself. The question felt too much like asking for something.
Varek's hand settled on the small of her back. "Can we what?"
"The pools." She kept her eyes on the steam rising from the nearest one. "Are they safe to go in?"
"Some of them. The blue ones run too hot. The clear ones are good for bathing." His thumb moved against her spine. "We'll go tonight, after the camp is settled."
The promise of hot water after two days on horseback was almost enough to make her weep.
Camp took shape more slowly here than it had the night before. The valley floor was uneven, pocked with pools and slick patches where the mineral water had left deposits on the rocks. Warriors spread out, testing the ground before pitching tents, finding the spots where the earth was solid enough to hold a stake.
Mab helped where she could. Gathering deadfall from the scrubby trees that grew along the valley's edges. Hauling water from one of the clear streams that fed the pools. Her body moved through the tasks automatically, grateful for something to do.
Grald found her near the stream, her arms full of branches.
"We found some wild onions on the slope. Need someone who knows what to do with them."
Mab nodded. "Who's on rotation tonight?"
"Tormund and Skarn." Grald jerked his chin toward the fire, where two warriors were arguing over a haunch of venison. "Tormund thinks salt fixes everything. Skarn thinks fire fixes everything. Between them, they've ruined more meat than anyone else in the company."
Mab watched Skarn jab a finger at the haunch while Tormund shook his head with the weary patience of someone who had heard this argument a hundred times before.
"And you thought I could help?"
"I thought you could stop them from serving us charcoal for dinner."
Mab waded into the argument with the wild onions as her excuse, and within an hour had talked Tormund down from his salt obsession and convinced Skarn that low heat and patience would do more for the venison than flames ever could. The meal that emerged wasn't perfect, but it was better than charcoal. Warriors ate with the same noisy appreciation they'd shown the night before, and Mab found herself sitting on Varek's lap again, her bowl warm in her hands, the ache in her legs almost forgotten.
When the bowls were cleared and the fires banked low, Varek's hand closed around her wrist.
"Come," he said. "I promised you the pools."
He led her to the tent first, ducking inside and emerging with a bundle tucked under one arm. Wool blankets, she thought, and something else she couldn't make out in the dim light. A cloth, maybe. A small pot of something.
