Herresas nods to Lasca, who produces from within her jacket a clean white cloth, and a small-bladed knife.
When Trav and Smoke Alarm and Warlock and the others all flinch in surprise, Herresas fixes Trav with a look that says that she knows precisely who and what the Traveller is and has been and is not cowed by that. "Biodata," she says sharply. "You know our methods, Time Lord, and yet you brought him to us. This is what must be done to delve below the craft that hides the truth of him. Be calm. He will not be badly harmed."
Herresas turns to Warlock. "The choice is yours. A small bloodletting, only."
Warlock shakes himself free of the Sisters to either side of him and gives Herresas a mulish look. "Worse has been done to me," he says, holding out his arm. "Do it."
Herresas draws the blade across his forearm. It's enough of a cut that blood wells up and sits thick on the knife, but Lasca immediately clasps the cloth over the cut to stanch it. Meanwhile, Herresas holds the blade over the cup she holds, and there is a
drip, drip, drip of red into the liquid.
For a few moments, nothing happens. Then the room brightens as a small shower of light and energy bursts up from the cup. Trav recognizes a tiny release of latent regenerative energy -- a trifle compared to the usual regeneration cycle; perhaps the Sisters' concoction is what released it?
As the radiance hangs in the air and slowly starts to fade, Herresas wafts a hand through the space over the cup, inhaling deeply. "Strange," she says. "But--"
She breaks off and all the Sisters in the room, and Warlock, stand stock still as Trav feels a raw psychic cry rip through her mind.
The suspended energy seems to ripple with that shock, and words form out of the waves in the pattern:
TARDIS ANGELS,
FLY!