Hecate set her cup down with a quiet clunk, and stood, too, as Qebhet's eyes frantically searched her memory. She followed her through to the entranceway, where Hecuba, who had taken refuge from the cleansing ritual (and any risk of getting splashed) poked her head around another doorway to watch them. Hecate dropped her hand down by her leg and felt the cool press of Hecuba's nose, a familiar reassurance in an uncertain time.
Qebhet's sentences were fragmented, but between the fragments a picture was hinting at form. "What happened," she asked. "After you drew blood?"