The Scumbags Guide to Enslaving Demon's

It sat there, waiting for whoever would take it.

The source seat stood in the middle of the room at the bottom of the Ashen Stair.

It was made of black desert rock that had been worn smooth by hands that weren’t there. Routes flowed through it like a dark liquid. Each route led out to a path of hunger, a path through winter, a food store, a water well, a debt market, or a place beneath the world that no current map could identify. The seat gave off a cool breeze that smelled of dust and rain, perhaps from a time when the desert above had once been green.

The team took their positions around the outer edge of the room. They didn’t step over the lines of symbols surrounding the source seat. They lit their lanterns and could see the old symbols carved into the walls of the desert room: wells that were full and wells that were dry, and hands opening and closing.

The sovereign echo formed behind the seat.

”Name the routes,” it said. ”End the hunger.”

It was harder to refuse than any of the crowns Austin Veyron had turned down before.

This wasn’t an offer to rule a single city, end one storm, or hold one ledger. This was an offer to name every route that ran to the Deep Table. He could provide water to the people who needed it. He could end the plagues that traveled along hunger routes. He could stop Vordessa before she moved and give Grand Meridian time to make the right decisions. No more uncertainty that could lead to death. He could picture Samira lying beside a dry well, the caravans tearing themselves apart over a reflection, and all the help that had never arrived in time. If he took this seat, he could stop all of that. All he had to do was sit down.

His wrist split open with a pain that felt like tearing.

DEVOUR wanted to sit in the source seat.

Veyra noticed him staring at it.

”Name it.”

”I want to name the routes.”

”What would it make you?”

”The person who chooses who gets help first.”

Sable lifted the crown shard to face the source seat. ”Then it’s just giving you a throne with better route maps.”

Calder approached the source seat. Whenever one of the old contestants came close to a source, their mark would activate, and his began to flicker now.

”It recognizes us as contestants,” he said, pressing his marked wrist against his chest. ”It isn’t concerned with who wins the ritual, only that there’s a winner.”

The route lines traveled out of the source seat and circled the room.

Memories of routes rose through the desert air. They hovered around the room like windows, as if the team could look through them into those distant places.

Austin Veyron watched as a caravan died at a dry well. He watched Frostmarket suffer its first white-fever rite, Glasswake’s workers holding blue debt tokens, and Grand Meridian’s lobby after the breach of the bridge. Each memory showed him saving everyone by issuing one simple command. In every memory, everyone looked up to him, and he was always the one who knew what they needed. They never questioned his decisions or had to decide anything for themselves.

The memories didn’t show what happened after he helped. They didn’t show the people his commands left out, or what happened to the routes he decided to close. Austin Veyron knew something was missing from them, and noticing that helped him understand what the seat was really offering.

Samira walked to the edge of the source seat’s lines.

”The desert teaches the first lie every source tells,” she said. ”Whoever holds the cup of water believes they’re the only one who can save everyone.”

A route wrapped around her arm.

THE WATER COUNTER WILL NAME THE HUNGRY.

She let the route stay wrapped around her arm. She knew the feeling of wanting to decide what someone else should receive.

”I count water to help people decide what they need,” she said. ”Not to decide what they deserve.”

The route unwrapped from her arm and fell to the ground as a small trickle of sand.

Tessa gathered the three Deep Table maps from Ceryn, Calder, and Veyra and spread them out on separate stones around the room, so that anyone could look at each map if they wanted to.

”No one holds the maps alone,” Tessa explained. ”Routes will be named only once we have proof of them.”

Ceryn laid out clean count sheets. ”Food facts won’t become command clauses.”

Nyra held up the heart shard, creating a shield around the source seat. It kept the routes from reaching the team without blocking them off completely.

”I am not its key,” she said. ”It isn’t my source.”

The source seat refused to give up its power. The route lines inside the black rock began to pulse like a racing heart. The room grew colder, and the routes began moving faster through the black rock.

The routes became ash-water guardians, born from the dark memories. They rose up out of the ground holding empty jars, sand pouring from the cracks in their bodies.

ONE KEEPER. ONE ROUTE.

They began attacking the team with their empty jars. Rin hit one of the guardians with an arrow and shattered its jar. Orena swept away the sand that fell on the maps. Veyra parried one guardian’s jar arm and stepped in close so it couldn’t swing again without hitting another guardian.

Austin Veyron saw what was driving the guardians to attack.

ONE KEEPER. ONE ROUTE.

”Target,” Austin Veyron said. ”The claim of one keeper and one route. Not the source seat. Not the paths on the maps. Not the memories that made them.”

”Witnessed,” Veyra said.

”Witnessed,” Sable confirmed.

Austin Veyron pressed the white root chain against one of the guardians’ jars.

DEVOUR opened to consume the claim. It tasted like someone holding a canteen above everyone else while hiding a route map inside their coat.

ONE KEEPER. ONE ROUTE.

He consumed one.

The guardian turned into sand, and its empty jar fell to the ground near Samira.

The other guardians stopped attacking. There were water count markings painted inside their jars. Now they were only old facts about the routes, not weapons. Samira picked up one of the jars and began reading the water counts inside it, her lips moving silently as she traced each number with her finger.

The sovereign echo hissed from behind the source seat.

”You’re taking too long to make decisions,” it said. ”Someone will die because you’re comparing maps.”

”Someone might die,” Austin Veyron said. ”Or one person could be wrong.”

The sovereign echo had nothing to say to that. Its light flickered, as if it had been caught off guard.

The source seat pulsed with a new claim.

THE ROUTE BELONGS TO THE ONE WHO NAMES IT.

It was brighter than the other claims, burning red against the black stone, and the air felt heavier around it. This was the core of the source seat. If the sovereign echo took it, it would gain control of the first source. If Austin Veyron took it, he would gain the same control, just under a different name.

Veyra didn’t have to ask what he wanted. Austin Veyron spoke before the hunger could claim the seat in his name.

”I want to take the seat.”

”What would it make you?” she asked.

”The one who keeps the source.”

”Then take less,” Sable said.

Tessa looked at the maps. ”We don’t need to take the route from it. We need to show that it’s already owned by everyone.”

No one moved for a moment. Then Samira placed her water count on the source seat. Calder placed his marked wrist beside it. Ceryn laid down route facts, and Nyra kept the shield up with the heart shard. Everyone said what they knew about the route.

”The water route through the desert,” Samira said.

”A path to the Deep Table,” Tessa said.

”An old mark from the succession,” Calder said.

”An unknown form of resonance,” Nyra said.

”We decide as a team,” Veyra finished.

Austin Veyron didn’t say anything. This time, he didn’t need to. The source didn’t need him to name it, and that left his hunger confused about what to do.

The source seat rattled, and dust fell from the ceiling. The hands carved into the walls began to open.

The claim at the core changed.

THE ROUTE IS KNOWN.

The sovereign echo leapt out from behind the source seat.

It tried to seize the seat before the claim could finish changing. Austin Veyron caught the edge of it with the root chain. The black-and-white light burned his hand, and the pain traveled all the way up to his shoulder, showing him how to help everyone and stop hunger all at once.

”Target,” Austin Veyron said. ”The claim that naming a route means owning it. Not the path. Not its memory. Not the source seat itself.”

”Witnessed,” Veyra said.

”Witnessed,” Sable agreed.

DEVOUR opened to consume the claim. It tasted like a name carved on a grave that you never put there.

The claim fought him like a root. It insisted that someone had to name the route first, and that whoever was able to name it deserved to have it.

THE ROUTE BELONGS TO THE ONE WHO NAMES IT.

He consumed belongs.

The source seat cracked in half.

It wasn’t destroyed. It was cracked open. Gray light poured out of it, not pale and not black, but a light like morning seen through dust. Three new routes formed in the black stone. One ran north and bore a storm symbol. Another ran west, beneath a drowned port. The last one ran southeast and bore a symbol shaped like teeth.

THE BONE ORCHARD.

The sovereign echo let out a sound like paper being torn in half. It broke free of Austin Veyron’s chain and plunged into the southeast route, leaving a burn mark on his hand. It raced away beneath the path as fast as it could.

The Ashen Stair began to fall apart with a deafening roar. The new claim on the source seat was still visible through the dust.

THE ROUTE IS KNOWN.

Calder grabbed one of the map copies, and Ceryn grabbed another. Veyra took the last one, and Tessa hid the stone rubbing in her coat.

”The Bone Orchard is the closest source to us,” Tessa said, coughing as they made their way back up the Ashen Stair. ”I think that route is waking up too.”

A rattle came from beneath the path. It didn’t sound like a bell or a furnace.

It sounded more like bones being dragged up through the dirt. The rattle traveled through the floor and into their feet. Rin’s tails bristled at the noise, and Nyra held the heart shard tightly as it flickered toward the southeast.

Austin Veyron looked at the burn on his hand, then southeast, where the sovereign echo had gone. Veyra caught his eye and nodded at him to follow it. The rest of the team was already gathering at the foot of the stair, maps secured, weapons ready.

They had found the first source, and it hadn’t allowed one person to take it.

The next source was ready to harvest hungry roots.