Emma's tongue poked out as she concentrated on the bowl of dirt in front of us. A dark lump shifted as the humped back of a bean sprout reared from the humus. The effort of maintaining its growth brought a flush to Emma's cheeks, but she kept at it until the plant had spread its first and second leaves. She broke off and fell over onto her back.

"It is grower's earth magic," said Chal in amazement. "But where in Ōmeteōtl's name did you get it?"

"Is it weird?" said Emma from the floor.

Chal touched the plant, then turned over each of its leaves on her fingertips. "Xipe has some. He's the only one of us who does, though."

Emma's forehead bunched up. "Could it be from... what's her name? Who sent me down."

"Cihua? No. She had a little, but not this type."

Day four, still here. We were all sitting together on the carpet of the reading room, a well-lit, plant-filled nook at the back of the house. There were comfy chairs around us, but the only one using them was a sleeping Huitecoya. Jem had occupied a full quarter of the floor with an array of plant sprigs he was busily arranging. What metric he was arranging them by, I couldn't even hazard a guess at. Emma had taken over the opposite corner and dotted the carpet with vegetables.

The puzzle of Emma's powers had only intensified over the course of the morning. She exhibited two types of magic, possibly three: her original ice type, a potent earth magic that came with the spellcasting ability she had used to make our tattoos, and potentially the ability to pass magic to Jem. Chal had started out most interested in the earth magic, after learning the range of plant matter Emma could summon. Grower's earth magic gives life, and it takes life away, the goddess had said. She had alluded that at full power, Emma might have control over life and death of things other than plants, which definitely didn't put my mind at ease.

The two had then switched their attention to the spellcasting component of the earth magic, a separate but linked ability. Chal had tried to get it to manifest—the electrical webbing I'd seen her, Tezcat, Coyol, and their mother Cōātlīcue all handle—with no success so far. She said the colour might give a clue about where Emma had picked it up, which could in turn help unlock its full power. I glanced at Emma, who was still sprawled on the floor. She was too transparent to be hiding anything. She really didn't know how she'd called in her spellcasting to save Jem and I from Fuego, and she had not been able to summon even a fraction of it since. Chal said it had something to do with memories. I hadn't really paid attention.

Chal, meanwhile, had decided to start me on my Fuego-wrangling before I got the full seal. Apparently there was no difference in the danger level between now and then, a statement I distrusted immediately, but which didn't end up mattering anyway. I had a variety of items in front of me: kindling, a candle, a mug of water, several types of seeds, a pebble, a knotted piece of dyed thread, and an arrowhead, among others. Chal had told me to get to know each of them and see if any drew me. The only result of a morning of this was an intimate knowledge of how to use each as a fiddly toy. My still-burned fingertips were sore, and I was ready to do anything else.

"No luck?"

Chal had come to check in on me. She had made it clear that a Fuego relapse was not something I had to worry about, but that only made me less motivated to do anything more with the magic. I wanted a seal, not magic powers.

I tucked my fingertips into the ball of my fist and poked the pebble on the floor. "No. What am I supposed to be looking for?"

The goddess sat down. "Not 'looking for'; feeling. Like it calls you. Like you can do something with it, even if you don't know what. You remember how Itztia said she felt when she touched that pot?"

She'd yelped and said it was buzzing. Chal had said that was her "calling": the earth magic remembering the element that was important to its last user. That both made my head spin, and made magic sound a lot more sentient than I was comfortable with. "Does Fuego even have an element? It's not even normal fire. And you said it isn't a normal magic, either."

"We don't know. We've never seen someone alive and infected with it before."

Like that made me feel so much better.

I had always loved lighting fires, and the kindling looked like a satisfying burn right now, but that probably didn't count. I picked up a whisk of fine grass and willed the wind to sing through it. It remained silent.

Chal considered me for a moment, then tried a different angle. "Let's forget about the calling for now, then. Even if you don't have one, there's still one other thing you need. Most magic needs a place inside you to act like an anchor; something to tie you down while you're using spells. The stronger the anchor, the stronger the magic. If you're hungry, thirsty, or cold, those wants can be enough to make what you need, but you need an anchor for anything bigger. What's your grounding?"

"Grounding?" How many requirements were there for activating magic?

"What are you attached to? Or proud of?"

"Example?"

"Certainly." She picked up the water cup, and its contents swirled as though alive. "I have spellcasting water magic, and my first calling was also water. It was the element my magic remembered when I first went to use it, and thus the one that... switched it on, you could say. I fell into a lake as a child, and when I floundered out again, I could use my water magic. My spellcasting took longer: that calling ended up being a piece of turquoise. I suspect that magic's last owner was a healer who used the stone's properties in their work. I have always had a knack for healing as well."

"Is spellcasting always that hard to unlock?"

"It does tend to be unpredictable, yes. And it might take several tries; the magic may react weakly to related things before meeting the right calling. Tezcat's did. He didn't gain his spellcasting until years after he moved in with us."

And he'd already had his night magic as a child. Some part of me hoped his spellcasting trigger had been as benign as a piece of turquoise.

Also... weakly? Weakly? If Emma still didn't have her spellcasting, whatever switched it on in the Fuego town couldn't have been the magic's real calling. But that meant these tattoos were from a weak version of her power.

Diez madres.

Chal was still talking, heedless of my revelation. "But I still need something to ground both sides of the magic on an ongoing basis. For me, that was easy: I have always, always loved the water. When I stand by a lake or river, or even a swamp, I feel like I can think and breathe, no matter how hectic things are. That's my grounding. Tlaloc's magic is also water, and his calling was a lightning strike, but his grounding is his love for his garden. That's why he makes rain."

She picked up the grass I had discarded. "For Quet, it's the freedom of the wind and his love for his people. For Xipe, it's caring for others and making sure their needs are met. For Xochi, it's her art. Does that make sense?"

I nodded. I was getting the hang of the sequence now. Emma had a spellcasting earth magic. Her calling for the earth half probably dated back to her childhood, but the calling for the spellcasting half remained unknown. I didn't know her grounding, but I would bet a good meal it lay in her endless curiosity and love of trying new things.

Jem also had earth magic, minus the spellcasting. His calling was a plant. I had Fuego, which acted completely differently from any regular magic. I might not have a calling, but I still needed a grounding. "Is it always a love for something?"

Chal's brow furrowed slightly. "No. Any strong emotion will do. But the strongest, safest, and most stable ones are love."

The examples made sense, then, but nothing jumped to mind for myself. Except my sister's children, but that was as much me pining for my own as it was real love. Everything else I loved, I loved because it let me get away from something else. The desert was an escape from the stuffy tents of Grillo Negro. Here was an escape from the desert. Another village was an escape from here. Even tanning and sewing, a favourite hobby of mine that had led to my coywolf outfit, was an escape from boredom and from the cold.

Actually, another village might be a reasonable idea. Especially if it had children. The briefest of fantasies flickered across my mind: finding a village, gaining control of my fire magic, and searing the turkey god with his own invention the next time he showed his face. I suppressed a smile. That thought made this whole magic business slightly more appealing. Was revenge enough motivation to serve as a grounding?

I gave it a quick, surreptitious test, letting my fingers stray to the kindling and pouring every vengeful thought I could muster into my will to make fire. Nothing happened.

"Think about it," said Chal. "It might take a while; it does for some people. But don't give up yet. Like I said, you and Itztia both have the magic in you."

She went back to Jem, who had a question for her. They put their heads together over a mushroom and spiraled into conversation beyond my level of botanical knowledge. Emma looped a finger through the air. A single frost fragment tumbled in its current, blooming into a snowflake. She caught it on a piece of fabric and watched it in wonder. I wanted to whip my pebble at the wall.