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27. Q'Shar's story
🕑 Added 2025-08-29 22:14:20 +0000 UTCI looked at the cat smoking the pipe and realized how much I didn’t know about him. He worked primarily with my father for years, only working directly with me ever since I took over the family as its last member. I always considered him a friend by proxy, but never actually talked with him about his history. He knew me through my father, and I knew him as a family friend. That’s all.
But now sitting here together, drinking and talking, the curiosity about him took root and grew alongside the conversation and alcohol.
“Hey, Q’Shar, why do you do this?” I asked, interest clear in my voice.
“Huh, do what?”
“This, all of this. With the Miracle Bringers stirring things and the veins reconnecting, there will be danger—lots of it. You never considered pulling back, hunkering down with some easier client?”
“No, I never did. I thought that would be obvious to you, of all people. You never considered winding down either.” The cat asked, clearly surprised by the change of tone.
“Yes, but I was raised like that. I love magic. I crave to comprehend the incomprehensible. I was taught how to follow that path from a young age. Ironically, in the absence of some overarching purpose to my life, I find it quite easy to simply do what I like and feel fulfilled. But, were you raised to be a broker from a young age or something like that?”
“Raised to be a broker? Pffff." The cat started laughing. “Oh no, I was not raised to be a broker—I was raised to be a stray.”
“What? You—a stray?” I could not imagine him as a normal stray cat without even the ability to speak a human language.
“Oh yes, even though we came from a family of ancient origin and one of the cat clans capable of intelligent thought, we did not use it for a long time. My grandfather was a stray, and we lived on a street.”
“You?” This was hard to reconcile with Q’Shar lounging on comfortable pillows in rooms with oriental decorations.
“Yes, even fully intelligent cats grow up much faster than humans. We are fully grown and capable of a full range of motion and thought after around a year, so I can remember much of it. I was an only child at first.” He looked at the glass of whiskey in front of him, his cat pupils stretching as they lost focus, taking up a big part of the eye. “We lived on the streets. Our breed is considered quite beautiful by human standards, so we never went hungry. A couple of meows and most fed us. My grandfather was the head of our small family at the time. We lived in an abandoned building, leading boring lives in a forgotten part of Boston. My grandfather always said that we should not wave sticks at others, so we don’t get hit with theirs. So we avoided violence, magic, and trouble, and just moved from place to place searching for a peaceful life. ‘Always turn the other cheek, and move away from underneath their stick’ was his saying.”
“So your grandfather was an overall good person? Do no harm kind of guy, I take it.”
Q’Shar’s eyes focused, and his face scrunched, showing a bit of fangs as he raised his head to look me in the eyes.
“He was a fucking moron and a coward, that's all he was.”
I was not expecting that description.
“It all changed when I got siblings, my mother had a litter of four, beautiful little cats. All lived through the birth. A big thing to commemorate. But our celebration was short-lived. As I said, my breed is rare and good-looking. So one day, not long after my mother gave birth, a man entered our little nest. He followed my grandfather, probably to catch him and found a four small maine coon kittens. I’m not sure what he was thinking. Maybe he wanted to sell them, maybe raise them. Honestly, I don't even think he had any bad intentions.” The cat let out a heavy sigh before continuing. “But whatever his reason, he just grabbed my siblings and went on his way as my grandfather cowered, hidden behind some boxes. I tried to bite and scratch, but it was no use. He just took them. Like some fucking animal from a shelter. He tried to grab me, but with all the scratching I was doing, the man dropped the idea and went on his way. I lost him when he entered a car, and that was it. None of us knew how to talk, with our mouths not designed for human speech, it takes years to produce even basic sounds. So we couldn't even try to break the law of secrecy and tell him to leave them.”
A bit of silence descended as Q’Shar took a gulp of the alcohol.
“That night, my father came back to an empty nest with my grandfather ready to move somewhere else, and my mother in tears. And we all understood that he was not a wise cat who hated violence because of his good heart. He was a coward who feared any confrontation. That day, I understood that if you don't want to get hit by someone's stick, all you need is a bigger one to wave at them.”
I could get behind that philosophy. But there was if the analogy was true, then…
“Am I your stick?” I asked. Not sure what I should be feeling about it.
The cat mulled over his words for a while before answering.
“In a sense, yes,” He finally said, but then immediately followed it up. “But who says you can't be friends with a stick?”
I chuckled, “Yeah, I guess you can.”
We clicked our glasses together.
“Anyway, my father told him to go fuck himself and tried to find my siblings but to no effect. Right after that, he joined a broker agency. Worked like a mule to teach himself human language and magic. To get resources to teach me. Your father recognized his fervor and took him as his new broker after the previous one passed away. This catapulted my father in prestige. Working with the infamous Ahazreds is quite the achievement after all.”
I nodded my head absentmindedly.
“Did you ever find them? You know, your siblings?”
“Oh yes, it was not easy as the guy who took them was moving to another city, and it took my father years to have enough say to be able to employ the cat’s information network for private enquiries. But I found them. They live good lives, with good owners. Treated from a young age as animals, they are all simply more intelligent cats in the eyes of their humans. Fed and brushed and loved, whenever they feel like it, as most cats do. They are pets.”
“Why not take them?”
“And do what? This life is all they knew. What right do I have to turn it on its head? Secrets and the world of the broker network take their toll. Keeping your father's secrets took its toll on my father. I could always tell when something happened as another hush order was given. Another secret he couldn't tell anyone but a bottle.” The cat sighed deeply. “They are happy, and I don’t think I have the right to take this happiness.”
He then tilted his head and asked.
“I mean, what would you do if you found out there was an Alhazred much like you living in some village with his family, happy without knowing anything about magic? Would you burden them with your family secrets? Would you show them the horror of your God? Take a part of them in exchange for a power they were happy without?"
“Hmmmm I-I don't know. I don't think any Alharzred would be happy in a quiet, small village. All of my ancestors were a bit crazy, usually finding their love in magic and secrets. But I think I would like to talk them into it if possible.”
“Even if it meant tearing them away from their lives?”
I need to think before answering. I never considered something like that, even briefly. I hesitated for quite a while before finally answering.
“Yes, I think it would be nice to have someone like me.”
I think I would tell them, talk them into joining the family.
Honestly, I missed my father a bit. It was nice to talk to someone about the things I saw, about the dreams given as a price for the contract. About the dark hollow stars trapped in an endless cycle of collapse and rebirth. About the cyclopean monuments in fields of black sand. About the song that dies unheard, and the music of the pipers circling the nuclear chaos. Even if they couldn’t be described with words, it was just the understanding in another person's eyes. I miss that feeling a bit.
“Well, if it is any consolation to you, if there were another Alhazred like you, it would probably put me in an early grave, so maybe it is for the better.”
My friend broke the awkward silence as we both smiled.
“Don’t you have nine lives?”
“Even if I do, I don’t want to spend an extra life dealing with your shenanigans. I’m pretty sure the last sabbath we attended shortened my lifespan.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Which part? You sending death threats to the Cardinal of Rome or the cultivator incident?”
“Both were pretty funny. And I didn’t send anything. I’m pretty sure I threatened him in person.”
“Thirty-two out of my thirty-six years spent on babysitting duty for the world's most efficient violence factory. If I have nine lives, I’m taking some holidays in the next one.”
“Ah, come on, I’m not that bad.”
“Sam, our branch works with five terrible people, and you are four of them.”
“Very funny,” I chuckled and downed my drink, pouring us another one. Since we ordered a whole bottle, we would be finishing a whole bottle. It was a time to relax.
** A cave somewhere deep in the mountains **
The ancient cave was barely lit up by the many candles, burning slowly with orange light. All were placed in specially carved candelabras fashioned after people's faces laughing joyfully. But the wax flowing down from the candles made the sculptures look like they cried in maniacal laughter rather than happiness.
For some reason, whoever put them there didn't bother to remove the wax.
But no one paid any attention to the candles, not tonight. Tonight, everyone was looking into the middle of the massive room, where a crystal clear lake lay at the cavern’s bottom. The sides of the lake were filled with many sculptures showing people falling over in worship. And in that lake, IT sat.
The thing trembled, a tremor passing through its massive body. It would soon awaken, but only for a short while, as it was not able to be conscious for long. But even this moment, a short while when the many mouths would move as one in horrid synchronicity and speak in many tortured voices, was considered a blessing.
To the people gathered, IT was many things–A beautiful thing, a dead thing, but most of all a thing to worship. The silhouettes in dark robes awaited the command.
Then, a mental pressure manifested, and the people dropped to their knees, their minds like fragile shells under the feet of a giant able to crush them at the slightest movement of his feet.
The thing awakened.
It would think its first thought in this millennium, oh what a glorious thing it would be to witness it, to witness a thought, to hear the voice, what ecstasy.
Another tremor, and the many mouths opened. Followed by a wind, as countless lungs in one amalgamation of flesh, took a synchornised breath, sucking in enough air for it to echo throughout the caverns.
“Go forth, bring miracles to the children of Earth.”
That was all, not many words, not many instructions, but that was all they ever needed. To know their purpose was true and their path was laid.
As the people poured from the cavern into its many corridors, to follow through with the command, a few high priests remained. They were here to watch over the entity falling to its slumber, like sentinels of its sleep. They vowed to ensure it would dream in peace once again. For now, at least.
As the thing wound down, and the many faces returned to their natural expressions of pain and fear, one of them moved. The one closest to the high priest, who looked at it with wide eyes filled with awe and worship.
The mouth spoke, like a last word someone might whisper as they fall asleep, barely conscious. It was a word that no one would know if it was the last one in the waking world or the first one of a dream.
Its muscles moving, bending the face from an expression of terror and awe into that of pure hatred. The lungs managed one last exhale to produce one word filled with fury.
“Alhazreds.”
