In the morning Dema and Cern met Avram at the museum as planned, but they had decided it was time for them to move on, and told him so.

"Must we leave you behind?" Dema asked him. "Perhaps you can come with us, at least for a while." 

"Alas, it is no use. I cannot risk crossing the Mures, as your road will surely do. And even if I could, a moment's inattention would draw me back here. No, I must stay, but I wish you well, and I will not forget you."

Dema reached out to him. In the dream they shared that made him visible to her, she dreamed herself touching him, putting her hands on his arms. Doing that meant entering the dream more deeply, and it was not physically real. But she said, "Avram, Cern, help me here," and began accreting moisture from the air and dust from the floor and shelves surrounding them to create a patina of reality that mimicked Avram's dream appearance. 

Avram understood the gesture, and added his own skill to make his physical appearance ever more real. Cern helped draw more dust and moisture from the far corners of the building. As the moisture left it the air took on a slight chill.

After a few moments Dema stepped back, and let her dream fade so that she could see the semblance of physicality that Avram had acquired. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Then she stepped forward and gave him a hug. He embraced her in return. When they separated, Cern offered his hand, and Avram took it. Some of the moisture they had used to form his body welled up in his eyes. Together they walked toward the door.

Avram stood in the door and waved to them as they got in the car and drove off. After a long moment, he glanced up at the sunlit sky and went back inside. He smiled kindly at the information desk attendant as he walked by, and she watched him until he disappeared among the displays. 

Such quaint clothing, she thought. He must have dressed that way as guide for the nice American couple who spoke such good Romanian. She was sorry to see them go. She did not recall seeing their guide before, but there was something very familiar about him. Perhaps it was the period dress. 

She thought for a moment and then recalled. Of course! Avram Iancu, hero of the resistance in the revolutions against the Austrian Empire in the mid 19th century. There were pictures of him everywhere, even statues. This guide fit the part perfectly. She stood up to take off the sweater she had put on a short while ago. The sudden chill she had felt seemed to be gone now. As she sat back down she looked toward the displays. She hoped she might see the guide again, so she could tell him how much she admired his appearance. But she resumed her cataloguing and soon forgot all about him.