The companions meet. Peregrynus opens the door.

Olias. My friend Peregrynus, you are the last to come but not the least important. The gate to the Infinite Staircase lies before us. Are you ready?

Peregrynus. Yes, Olias. We will enter together, as planned, and walk the steps between the worlds. One of the doors beyond will take me to the land of joy about which I dream so often. But who are these others? 

Bryony. I am Bryony, a collector.

Peregrynus. And what do you collect?

Bryony. Magical bibelots. Ornaments celestial and infernal. Objects extraplanar. Anything.  

Peregrynus. And you?

Starken. I am Starken, a powerful wizard.

Olias. No, sir, you are not. You are a warlock. You have great potential that some entity has seen fit to tap on your behalf.

Starken. You are right, of course. Here is my story: I am excessively beloved by many, alas; it was only a matter of time before an immortal being who wished to grant me their powers would fall in love with me. Though I cannot reciprocate their affections, I feel myself honor-bound to make use of the benefits.

Bryony. You are lucky. In my experience, love seldom confers any benefits and very often takes them away.

Starken. But isn’t love itself a benefit?

Bryony. No. That is just what sentimental people tell one another. A benefit must be a useful thing; love is not a useful thing; therefore, love is not a benefit.

Peregrynus. I see you have chosen curious companions full of interesting speculations. I am eager to begin this journey.

Olias. Good. We all of us have some magical ability, too—though I do excel everyone in this regard.

Peregrynus. You are right to be proud, not humble. Everyone who would walk the Infinite Staircase should have some excellence. I excel in warriorlike combat.

Bryony. And I in craft, subterfuge, and the acquisition and exchange of goods.

Starken. And I in attractiveness and all the arts of love.

Peregrynus. Very good. Shall I?

Peregrynus strode toward the wooden door that would open to the Infinite Staircase. It looked to be—and indeed had been—the door to a warehouse of the Seven Suns Trading Coster. Paint chipped in the carving that was still visibly the Bleth family seal—a dolphin, jumping over a ball, inside of which were three swords, one of them bloody. Above the jumping dolphin was an arc set with painted stars. When Peregrynus opened the door, the new companions saw, beyond the threshold, a real arc set with real stars wheeling above a great white staircase. Alas, there was no dolphin.