Finally.
I was glad Chal had added a painkilling spell to the cocktail now making Xochi's fingers glow in a faint mix of blue-green and purple. I watched in fascination as the long, thin point of the maguey spine she had collected in Tlalocan dipped in and out of my skin, carrying black ink into new patterns through my tattoo cuffs. I had never thought a plant could be so sharp. Xochi had mounted it on a handle like a paintbrush, and she handled it just as effortlessly.
"Done," she said, finishing the last thin band. The last of the glow siphoned off into the design. "You are no longer contagious."
"That's it?"
"Should be. Those two put their full power into it." She shook out her hand. "You know it's potent when it stings like that."
"Thank you." For all the days I'd spent dreaming of this moment, the magnitude of it was taking its time sinking in. I felt a little stunned. I had not expected the final sealing of Fuego to involve more tattoo work, but then again, tattoos were a lot less nerve-wracking than having spells cast on me. "You made it look so easy..."
Xochi smiled. She rubbed the fresh tattoos with a green-tinted balm and wrapped them in bandages. "Itztia did most of the work. Now, make sure you keep those out of hot water for a couple of weeks. You can take the bandage off tomorrow evening, and after that, use this in the morning and evening until it heals over and the scabs fall off." She placed the small clay bottle of balm in my hand. "No exceptions. It won't affect the spell, but tattoo infections are not something you want to deal with."
"Am I allowed to go slinging this afternoon?"
"No. Give it a few days."
For what I had just received, I could swallow my complaints. I pestered Xochi about her tattoo tools and methods until Jem poked his head in the door.
"You coming?" he said. "Emma's waiting for us."
I thanked Xochi again and refrained from skipping as I joined him. Something heavy had settled in my gut, but the lightness in the rest of me was more than enough to counter it. I was already mapping out all the times of day when I might be able to slip away to the couch room and walk circles past the windows. If I found something, I could actually act on it now. The problem was Jem. If he wouldn't come, I at least wanted a way to get back to him.
"Feel better?" said Jem.
"So much better."
"Do I get to see it?"
"I can take the bandages off tomorrow. And I'm not allowed to sling today, but I'll watch you guys."
We joined Emma and made our way together to the room where she practiced her ice magic with Tlaloc. Quet was there with a pouch of stone shot, not that any of us were good enough yet to break the stones and need replacements. He winked at us and moved to one side of the room. Along the opposite wall were three wooden dummies, dressed up to look like Centzon Huītznāuhtin. Quet fitted a stone in his sling, gave it a lazy whirl and whipped it at a dummy. The mock Centzonhuītznāhua slammed against the wall. He flicked it upright again. It had a huge dent in its face.
"You'll be working with these today," he said, "so it's not a surprise if or when you have to fire at something that actually looks like an enemy. Adriana, you can stand where you normally would."
I followed Jem and Emma to the wall where Quet stood. Jem was first to load his sling, but the moment he lifted it, the dummies came alive.
The walls flashed with memories of golden fire and spinning feathers. On the room's far side stood three men in with thick cotton armour, their faces so expressionless they hardly looked human. Each one raised a weapon: a spear, a sling, and a bow.
A rock smashed the middle one backward. The vision broke.
"Oh, and I had Tezcat put a spell on them," said Quet. He quirked us a cheeky grin and summoned back the stone he had slung. "Hope that's okay."
My heart could have convinced me I'd just run up a mountain with a coywolf pack on my tail.
"You could have warned us," said Emma.
"Real danger doesn't give warnings. I wanted to see how you would react." He tipped his chin at me. "Not bad."
I looked down to find my sling in my hands, already loaded. I didn't remember loading it.
"And Itztia, you'll want to learn to control that."
Emma's sling handles had a fur of frost on them. Jem was gripping his stone so tightly in its cradle, I wasn't sure he'd be able to let go.
Be proud, I told myself as the brief joy of the morning slithered away. This was worth a shot, though a village would be better. I still had a negative grounding. Fuego was still in me, a magic I would carry for the rest of my life. No longer contagious, but still deadly if activated the wrong way. If I had a better grounding, I would have control.
Something to be proud of. Something to love.
I released my tight hand on the sling, its roughness like a burn on my fingers. These are skills from the Mexica. They're your people. Find pride in what you're doing. The words felt foreign. I didn't want this. I didn't ask to be trapped here. I wanted to leave.
I lifted the sling and was stopped by a gentle touch. Quet's fingertips lowered my hands.
Is everything okay? he asked in my head.
He knew full well it wasn't; he was just asking to be polite.
I'd let you sling, but it's Xochi's orders. I know you've been struggling lately. If there's anything I can do to help, just ask, alright?
I nodded mutely. I wanted to whip stone after stone at the walls until I had flung all my energy into the whirl of the sling.
Why don't you take a break for today? Quet flicked a finger in the air. The vision that had reappeared on the room's other side ended for me. Go rest and let those heal. Xol's dogs might be able to help.
I nodded again and put my sling away. I wasn't sure either Jem or Emma noticed when I left. I wandered to the couch room—Tlaloc was reading in his giant armchair—then back through the house. I reached the reading room at its opposite end and startled when I realized someone was already there.
You can come in.
Someone I could handle being around, though. Xolotl pulled another pillow from the chair he was using as a backrest and tossed it to me. I sat. The god made Tochtli shake a paw and rewarded her with a treat. Huitecoya waited patiently for his turn.
Anything you want to talk about? said Xolotl. Gods, he and his twin were exactly alike.
Not right now.
He acknowledged that with a nod and went back to dog commands. They were all silent. I wondered if he could speak in the dogs' heads, too.
"What's your grounding?" I said at last. This might be my last chance to ask him, and I needed every clue I could get about how to find mine. I had seen Xolotl do magic many times, but Chal had not listed his when she gave me examples.
"Me?" He produced another treat and made Huitecoya roll over for it. "Nothing special."
"I'm trying to figure out what mine is. Well... what I want it to be."
Xolotl stayed silent for a while. Grifo wandered in and was added to the training regimen. Xolotl made all three dogs lie down with a single gesture.
"Home," he said.
I lifted my head from my knees.
"And family," said Xolotl. "Or just family. But that makes a place home."
"It's that important to you?"
He nodded.
"Don't you ever... feel trapped here?"
"No." He scratched Grifo's ears. Huitecoya sniffed around my bandaged wrists, then licked my elbow. I stretched out my arm to give him a better angle.
"It's a place I know I can always come back to," said Xolotl. "Even if it's not much. Or if there are bad days." He glanced at me. "Do you miss yours?"
"Not really," I lied.
The question was in his eyes, though he didn't say it.
I hugged my knees tighter. "There's nothing there. And it's dying."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing old. Just a bunch of made-up traditions. And family, I guess."
"That sounds good enough to me."
Irritation flared in my chest, butting against my sudden homesickness. What did he know? From what I'd picked up in our short time here, the gods had lived together—or at least close to one another—for nearly their entire lives. They'd built a whole world together, filled it as they pleased, and overseen a culture whose descendents persisted right until El Día de Fuego, and maybe even after. The gods didn't just know what came before the world burned. They knew what came before that, and so on, right back to the beginning of time. Xolotl had no concept of what it was like to grow up without such a history. Having and losing it wasn't the same.
So I didn't answer. Xolotl kept playing with the dogs.
"Are you sure it's not worth fighting for?" he said at last.
There were things worth fighting for in the world, and they weren't Grillo Negro. They were the things I was trying to find before Coyol destroyed them all, to learn that history, and give myself enough to be proud of to get this fire disease under control.
Xolotl didn't seem to be waiting for an answer out loud, which was just as well. I slouched back against the wall and stewed until a shout from the other end of the house made us both start. The next moment, the lights went out. A black block slammed over the room's skylight. In the faint light of the night-glyphs by the floor, I saw Xolotl rise to a crouch.
"Centzon Huītznāuhtin," he said. "They're here again."