They reach the finger of piled stone that extends out into the bay. It was one of those stones, flattened and smoothed by centuries of waves, which aided Dyeawan in solving the riddle of the Spectrum’s construction that clinched her place at the planner’s table.

It is clear Edger intends to traverse the stones.

“Why are we returning here?” Dyeawan asks.

“Indulge me” is his only answer.

With a sigh, Dyeawan lifts the handle of the bellows, filling its bladder with air from the tender’s wheels and causing their many spikes to retract. She has no choice but to allow Edger to push her and the tender up onto the uneven surface of the stone bank, but at least once they’re astride the rocks Dyeawan can steer and paddle the tender on her own once more. They make their way across the stone bank in silence, Edger leading the way.

The God Rung hangs from its hand-carved monolith rising at the end of the rocky terrain. The wind is causing the heavy steel circle to creak and clank loudly against its rusted base.

Dyeawan finds she dislikes the sight of it even more now that she knows its history.

“The weather is not, I’m afraid, conducive to what I must ask you to do next,” Edger tells her. “Fortunately, I know you are more than strong enough to adapt.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Go for a swim. More precisely, a dive.”

Dyeawan stares up at him without surprise, but with a clear amount of resentment.

“I thought I was done taking tests.”

“You are,” he assures her. “This isn’t a test. There’s something at the bottom of the bay I need you to investigate. I need to know your understanding of it.”

He’s telling the truth, though what that truth means to Edger is always open to debate.

He reaches inside his tunic and removes a pair of glass rounds bound together by a thick hide cord. The rounds of glass are set inside what appear to be covers fashioned from some form of shell. Longer lengths of cord are attached to either cover. The article looks as though it’s meant to be worn around the head, over one’s eyes.

“These will allow you to see beneath the bay. The glass is specially treated so it will neither fog nor streak, thus obscuring your vision. I refined the process myself.”

“Of course you did,” Dyeawan says, and Edger can’t discern whether she’s in awe or mocking him.

He offers her the eye covers. “Will you do this thing? Will you trust me this one final time, with the provision that I will never have to ask you again?”

Intrigued, Dyeawan accepts the pair of covers. She ties the hide straps together around her head, carefully fitting each viewing piece over her eyes.