Curious Customs from Under the Earth

Throw a stone ring in the zee, the book told him, to undo one of the world's mistakes and be blessed with clarity of purpose. The ring is heavy, too heavy for any human hand to wear, but it arcs through the air like a Greek discus; it flies and falls to be swallowed up by black water. Lately the Neath looks vague and dark, like shapes seen through a clouded window, and Theodor walks through it the way he walks through his dreams, pulled by his reflection. But the arc of the ring is clear -- as clear, he hopes, as his blessing. He holds his breath, holds the collar of his coat, and stands on the shore longer than it takes stone to sink.

Theodor has always been a man more superstitious than faithful -- guarding himself against bad fortune and ill spirits through rituals he half-doubts, but knows, and can perform himself. Better that, he thinks, than to wait on the intercession of a deity.

Once he gave to the zee, the zee might return what it took, and confess it a mistake. But how would the confession come? What should he wait for, if not intercession? Bubbles rise where the ring touched the water, foaming the stillness of the zee. A sign?

A sign that he can't read. Ritual done, he lets his reflection pull him home.