Adventure of Davis of Carmathen 1

After supper, Sella leads Davis and Rowan to the salt-marked table. The fire burns low, and the four bowls of spring water reflect every careful movement.

Sella points with a splinter of ash, never touching the salt. One line breaks cleanly near the eastern bowl; another curves toward Mara’s ring, while a third remains perfectly undisturbed.

She gives Davis a waxed pouch of salt, a stoppered vial of spring water, and a small cloth packet of iron filings. Rowan receives matching portions for the road.

Sella nods and seals the salt, spring water, and iron filings into their pouches. She snuffs the nearest lamp, leaving the hearth to cast a low amber glow across the table.

Rowan gathers his matching pouch and rises carefully from the bench. Sella guides him toward the nearer sleeping room, keeping the passage clear and the ring undisturbed on the table.

Sella pauses at the doorway and places a folded road map beside Davis’s sleeping room. Its ink marks a sheltered footpath that reaches Bellwater before the main pilgrim road.

The hospice settles into silence. Rowan’s door closes softly, while the fire sinks to coals and the four bowls of spring water remain perfectly still.

Davis wakes in a single sharp motion, breath caught, his hand already closing around the dagger beside him. The dim room feels unfamiliar for one startled instant.

He rises onto one elbow and brings the blade up, its edge catching the faint amber glow beneath the doorway. Nothing moves beyond the quiet threshold.

The memory of the evening settles into place: the salt pouches, the spring water, the road map, and the two sleeping rooms beneath the arcade.

Davis lowers the dagger and sits fully upright. Beyond the wall, the hearth gives a soft pop, followed by the steady hush of the sleeping hospice.

He keeps the weapon within easy reach but lets his shoulders loosen. Dawn has not arrived, and the sheltered footpath to Bellwater waits with the morning.

Davis dresses, checks both daggers, secures the waxed pouches, spring-water vial, iron filings, and road map, then steps quietly into the hospice grounds before dawn.

The grounds spread around the clear spring in damp silver light. Finch calls stir the hedges, rabbit tracks cross the soft earth, and fox prints mark the far edge of the path.

Near the spring, Davis finds brightleaf growing beneath the stones, useful for bruising, and gathers several clean leaves without disturbing its roots. A bitter silver moss clings to the shaded basin, reputed to reveal tainted water.

He follows the moss along the basin wall and discovers tiny blue starflowers in a sheltered crack, an old hedge-witch remedy for fever. He wraps samples separately and marks the place on the map.

Reaching beneath a thorned hedge for one last sprig, Davis slips on the wet bank and scrapes his forearm against the stones. The cut is shallow, but his gathered plants remain secure.

By the time dawn touches the hospice roof, Davis has medicinal brightleaf and fever-starflowers, silver moss for testing, and a clear record of the animals and growth around the grounds.

Davis rinses the shallow cut with spring water, chews brightleaf into a bitter paste, and presses it over the scrape. He wraps his forearm securely, holding still until the leaves cling beneath the cloth.

The treatment settles cleanly. The brightleaf stays in place, and the cut stops troubling him as he tests the wrap with a careful flex of his arm.

Back beneath the arcade, Davis studies the hospice’s practical corners: the hearth tools, storage cupboards, locked ledger chest, and the worn stones near the outer wall.

His attention catches on a narrow section of paneling behind the wood store. A concealed latch opens a shallow arms cabinet holding two serviceable short swords, a hunting bow, and spare arrows.

A waxed inventory tucked beneath the swords confirms the weapons belong to the hospice for emergencies. Beneath it, Davis finds a small ring of keys, including one marked for Bellwater’s shrine storehouse.