"Certainly," said Lowbeer, the door appearing just to the left of where he’d expected it, along with a surrounding hand’s-width of glossy black bodywork, the decloaked segment unevenly pixelated along its edges. The door opened, its step folding down. He stepped forward, up, and into the glow of a single stout white candle, centered on the table in the carpeted pit. Behind him, the door quietly closed.