Hoku left the library with the book under his arm and went to his uncle's study.
Jiang Hao kept a small room at the rear of the villa for his work. Hoku switched on the lamp after entering, and a flaxen light spread over the desk and the shelves behind it.
The study itself was plainly furnished, with little in the room beyond what Jiang Hao used for his work.
Hoku often read here and was familiar with most of its contents, including the textbooks, stationery, and bundles of old currency his uncle kept in the desk drawers.
A bulky computer occupied one end of the desk. Jiang Hao used it to catalogue his collection, recording books and manuscripts alongside references to the folders of loose papers that filled the lower shelves. Hoku had occasionally consulted it when he could not remember where something belonged, although prolonged use tended to aggravate his migraines.
He set the white book beside the keyboard and searched the catalogue for its title.
There was no entry for The End of Time. He tried Barret's name instead and found a brief note concerning an antiquarian who had lived in the early nineteenth century. Jiang Hao had recorded two publications under his name, neither of which resembled the volume Hoku had found.
'Perhaps he hasn't entered it yet.'
A reference at the bottom directed him to a folder of local newspaper cuttings. Hoku retrieved it from the shelf and brought it to the desk.
Most of the older papers concerned buildings and people from the surrounding town. He passed over an account of a chapel's restoration and several pages about an estate that had since been divided into smaller properties. Near the front was a cutting from the previous day's paper.
Fire Damages Historic Manor Formerly Owned by Dr. Francis Barret
Hoku drew it closer to the lamp.
The fire had been reported early the previous morning. The house, which had stood empty for some time, had suffered considerable damage to several rooms and part of the entrance.
Two photographs accompanied the article. One showed the damaged portico; the other had been taken inside, where fallen plaster and blackened timber surrounded a bookcase.
A painting stood against the lower shelves.
Hoku opened the white book beside the cutting. The oar resting diagonally across the steps was in the same position, and the candleholders on either side of the bookcase matched those in the illustration.
'Could my uncle have bought the book from this house?'
He compared the images more closely. Although the print was grainy, he could see no obvious damage to the canvas. Even the wall directly behind it appeared untouched.
The article did not mention the painting. Farther down, however, it named a road on the other side of town.
Hoku knew where it began. He had passed it several times with his uncle without realising the manor stood nearby.
He checked the clock above the shelves. There was still most of the afternoon left, and Jiang Hao would not be home until much later. He could ask about the book then. In the meantime, he wanted to see the house.
'There may be someone looking after the property. I could ask whether the painting is still there.'
Hoku copied the address onto a loose sheet of paper and added the main road mentioned in the article. He left the book open beside the cutting, switched off the computer, and went downstairs for his coat.
After putting on his boots, he collected his keys and slipped a few coins into his pocket. The folded address went into the other.
. . .
The walk took longer than Hoku had expected.
The shops and closely spaced houses became fewer as he continued down the road, until a stretch of wall appeared between the bare trees. An iron gate stood a little farther on, with the manor visible behind it.
His calves ached by the time he arrived. He rested a hand on the cold metal and unfolded the paper to check the address.
The house matched the photograph. Part of the porch above the front steps had collapsed, leaving one of its columns exposed. The rest extended around the side of the building, where dead vines clung to the railings.
One leaf of the gate stood slightly open. When Hoku tried to move it farther, the lower edge scraped against a loose stone. He nudged the stone aside with his boot and pulled the gate clear.
The grounds had been neglected long before the fire. Weeds grew through the gravel, and the grass around a broad tree stump lay flattened by the wind. Nearer the house, pieces of plaster and splintered timber had been gathered beside the path.
Hoku put the address away and approached the front steps.
A strip of warning tape stretched between the columns. He remained on the path while he examined the porch, then moved towards the side where the roof was intact.
"Hello? Is anyone here?"
His voice carried into the open doorway. He listened for a reply, but could hear only the wind stirring the loose end of the tape.
The front door stood ajar, its lower panel blackened. From the steps, Hoku could see a length of hallway and an arch opening into a room at the far end. There was no desk or bookcase in sight.
He used the iron knocker and called once more.
After a while, he lowered his hand and peered through the gap beside the door. Daylight extended across the hall as far as the arch. Through it, he could distinguish the edge of a mantel and part of a curved staircase.
'Sigh...The photograph must've been taken from farther inside.'
Hoku ducked under the tape and pushed the door open.
The smell of burnt wood lingered in the hall. Several candleholders hung crookedly from the walls, and Hoku had to step around a fallen section of ceiling to reach the arch at the far end.
It opened into a parlour furnished with a low table and several upholstered chairs, their coverings ruined by the fire. A stone fireplace stood a little to the left of the entrance, with soot covering the wall above its mantel. Across the room, the staircase curved towards the upper landing.
Hoku examined the damaged steps without attempting to climb them. Neither the desk nor the crowded bookcases from the illustration was in sight, and the adjoining doorway led into a smaller room with an overturned cabinet and empty shelves.
As he returned to the parlour, he rubbed his forehead. A dull ache had begun behind his eyes, and the smell was becoming unpleasant.
He tried to open a window beside the staircase, but its fastening would not move. Through the sooty glass, he could see part of the path leading back towards the gate.
'My uncle might know who looks after the house. I should have asked him first…'
On his way past the stairs, Hoku noticed a rectangular seam in the panelling under the railing. Most of it was obscured by soot, but a strip of plaster had cracked near the hinges, exposing the edge of a door.
Hoku wiped the soot from the panel with the side of his hand. Two small holes showed where a handle had once been, while a strip of plaster had been worked around the frame and painted the same colour as the wall.
Hoku leaned his shoulder against the door. The wood creaked under his weight, dislodging a piece of plaster onto his shoe, but the panel would not open. He bent towards the gap beside the frame, hoping to see what obstructed it from within.
There was no light on the other side, and the longer he peered into it, the more difficult it became to concentrate. As he straightened, dizziness forced him to brace a hand against the wall.
He lowered his head and swallowed. The ache behind his eyes had worsened, and he was beginning to regret spending so long inside.
A door slammed in the hall.
"Is somebody there?" Hoku called towards the arch. "Could you come here?"
He listened as he left the wall, expecting footsteps or a reply. Instead, his knee buckled, and he stumbled against the nearest chair. He gripped its arm and tried to straighten, bewildered by the weakness in his legs.
Daylight lay across the hall beyond the arch. He had walked through it without difficulty a little earlier, but now he had to support himself on the furniture to approach it.
Hoku released the chair and reached the fireplace beside the entrance. With his forearm resting on the mantel, he tried to call into the hall.
"Could you help me? Please…"
He began coughing and bent over the stone, unable to continue. When he tried to move, his knees failed him, and he slid down beside the hearth.
'Jiang Hao won't be home until tonight. I didn't tell him where I was going…'
Hoku planted a hand on the floor and tried to push himself towards the arch. His arm trembled under his weight, then folded, leaving him on his side with his cheek against the boards.
He could still see the light in the hall. He tried to call once more, but could not tell whether he had made a sound.
The room gradually darkened. Hoku kept trying to open his eyes, uncertain whether he had closed them, until even the pale doorway was lost to him.
"Give me your hand, young man. You needn't get up on your own."
The voice was close, although Hoku could no longer see who was speaking. He felt a tug at his coat.
. . .
Rule 5
The original fifth rule has been removed from this record.
Hence, I have written this in its place.
If the preceding entries remain in their proper order, the first interval should open in the year 1819. Do not mistake that date for a return to the past. Whatever lies beyond the manor does not lead back to the present you left behind.
Read the rules in sequence.
-End of the memoir's prelude-