She opened her eyes. The collapsed mine was gone, fortunately. Quill hovered above her, shock rippling across his face. He wore his full ceremonial regalia, a mustard chasuble and a russet stole.

“And have you chosen to repent your sins at last and accept the Builder’s direction?” Quill asked in a whisper, curiosity rather than condemnation in his voice.

“If I were to give up all the Temple deems sinful, there would not be enough of me left for the Builder to direct,” Isabelle said.

“Then what do you want?” Quill said, leaning on his staff.

“Your help. I need you to humor me, so to speak.”

Quill looked to Marie. “Is she babbling again?”

“No, she just thinks she’s being clever, but her brain’s too fried to know she’s missed the mark.” Marie turned to Isabelle. “Get to the point.”

Isabelle said, “I need a transfusion. As much blood as Quill can safely spare.”

Quill looked taken aback. “Why?”

“Because you are a full-blooded Fenice.”

Quill’s expression puckered as sour as vinegar. “A failed Fenice, unhallowed.”

“The question is why your sorcery refused to manifest,” Isabelle said. “We have long known each sorcery is born in a different organ of the body: the eyes of a Glasswalker, the skin of a Sanguinaire, and so on, but it was lately discovered that there is a second necessary component, a sub-organ in the brain we call the Builder’s node that controls the sorcery.”

Quill leaned forward attentively, though his head still twitched as if it couldn’t quite decide where it attached to his neck. “I heard rumors that unhallowed sorcerers had been vivisected.”

“The one who did it is dead,” Isabelle said, still speaking low. “But facts are facts no matter how they are obtained. To the point: you and I were each given a vitera, and we both had them removed, but with vastly different results. I began to transform into a Fenice. You did not.”

Quill withdrew from this simple statement as if from a bad smell.

Isabelle moved on quickly. “I am reliably informed that once a transformation begins, it cannot be stopped short of completion or death, and here I am. My body lacks the reagent it needs to complete the transformation. Conversely your vitera was removed but your transformation never started. Most likely your Builder’s node is stillborn. It is possible that between us we have enough pieces to complete a single transformation. My brain, your blood.”

“This is speculation, the worst sort of wishful thinking,” Quill said, clutching one quivering hand to his chest.

“Some of it I can test,” Isabelle said. “Marie. The blood ciphers.”