Callimpsest walks through the village, pondering his dream of the night before. It would seem he has a quest ahead of him. He cannot conceive of anything he stands to lose by believing his vision; but he is no knight, and cannot see himself scouring the land for a building that may only have existed in the mind of one senilescent wizard.

His books aren't helping - and, being books, quite literally so. Some are refusing to open, and others quickly swing shut. Is it that he is asking too much of them, or that, in their wisdom, they are trying to protect him? The most obliging of his tomes is the Iliad, but it presents him with accounts of rashness, death and fate at its least mutable. Now more than ever, he needs inspiration and courage, and unable to find it on his bookshelf, he must try something else. Callimpsest has spent enough time around monks to appreciate their beliefs. He is heading for the village church. He hopes that a visit there will, at the very least, take him no further away from the answers he seeks.

It gives him answers before he is even through the door. And they come so strikingly that he has to steady himself against a passing old lady.

"...It cannot not be."

"Ooh but it can, my lad! If you wish to woo me further, I'll be in the Crazed Heifer at sundown!"

The old lady departs with a spring in her shuffle. Callimpsest doesn't notice. He is staring up.

At the church's clock tower.

The legend rings out in Callimpsest's head. A towering instrument of time, from a different time, imported by Merlin: how could this not be the object of his quest? Callimpsest rushes for the church - almost bumping into a seller of candles and crucifixes. Deciding that a candle could be needed, he requests one of the self-lighting variety and fumbles for a coin.

"Just a candle, my man?" asks the seller. "You were in a mighty haste to reach the church. One of my holy roods would serve you well. Made from the twin pines of the Dunn Hill, and used by everyone from Sister Lu-"

Callimpsest puts a hand up. "Where I'm going... I don't need roods."

The seller is left scratching his head with the coin (and, once no one's looking, other less salubrious areas). Within minutes, Callimpsest has found his way unnoticed into the tower. He climbs the narrow stairs until he sees a door set into the wall. He can't see a lock, but nor can he see a handle. He pushes the door, and something starts to happen.

"Oh no, no, please."

Something unwanted and really too familiar.

"Not NOW! Merlin, you-"

The Weeping Door, Doorson by name, begins to speak. "Oh no! Ah woe! To dusty death all will go. Tomorrow is to sorrow, and yesterday is no better!"

"Be quiet," snaps Callimpsest. "True or false, false or true, open up and let me through."

"I hear, I fear. Seventy truths will open me..."

Callimpsest clenches his fists and hops about. This is appalling. Then he remembers: he still has something from the Knightmare Boarding School, something all staff were given to help discipline disagreeable students. It's about time he used it.

"Spellcasting: T, R, U, T, H!"

Doorson fades. There is a small scraping sound. Callimpsest smiles. The spell should hold for a while - maybe even until he dispels it, given that the creature is already spellbound. As he pushes, the door opens with an awful noise. Shuddering at the awfulness of Doorson's creak, he ventures up the steps beyond.