He awakened a short while later, a recurrent clicking in his ears.
Reiki janja sat on the stone, tossing jewel-bright dice into the air and catching them, rolling them out on the stone as the whim took her. She was a sketch of herself, patches of color painted on air, and the dice she threw had blank sides.
“How do you win with those?”
The janja turned her head. He thought she smiled. “No one wins, Dom. Both sides lose.” Her voice was as hollow as her form.
“No Dom. Not anymore.” He thought she smiled again. “I’ve a more impressive title, janja. Representative to the Congress of the Domains, Speaker for Bakuur and Kulaan.” He chuckled sleepily. “Serroi said keep busy. That I do.”
The janja nodded. “You’ve seeded a new age, Hern. My time is ending.” She looked up, squinting into the sun, a painted glass figure, the ancient paint faded and rubbed thin. She tossed the blank dice high, watching the glitters until the sun swallowed the tumbling dodecahedrons, then she turned her vanishing face to him, “Live long, dom Hern.” Like the dice, she dissolved into the sunlight.
He sat awhile where he was, drowsing, at peace, listening to the trees sigh. Then he rose to his feet, gathered his things into his knapsack and walked back to the lacewood; He stroked his hand along her trunk, his fingers feeling skin that his mind tried to deny. “Well, Serroi…” He looked up. Another late blossom brushed his cheek as it fell. A corner of his mouth twisted up. “Why not.” He touched the trunk with his fingertips. “I’ll be back, love, when the world gets to be too much for me. To share your peace awhile.” He lingered a moment, then started back down the mountainside.