The boys left the battlefield in disgrace.

They cleared the three children out of the room and back into the long crystal hallway, to get them away from the monster corpses. Berlitz thought that they wouldn't be as traumatized as much if they got them away from the area, post haste. To the kids, it didn't really matter, the corpses weren't disturbing to them at all, no different to the dead cats and birds that were run over by carriages in Little Twister on a frequent basis. Still, they did what the grown-ups said, because they were already in quite a lot of trouble.

Injuries were bandages with care, and the bandage around Clive's hand was redressed, in case Ravendor had not done it right. He felt that it had been done right, but also didn't argue. He seemed to be in far too much trouble to argue now. They used the medical bag for the treatment that Ravendor had brought with him, but luckily did not notice the 'treasure' that had been hastily stored in there. To them, without taking the close looks that they should have, they were just tiles of ivory stone. Clive had forced himself to stop crying when he noticed the almost sympathetic looks the older drifter was giving him, as if he was watching a young child throw a temper tantrum.

Horatio set Ravendor down on the ground, onto his back so that the child to continue to breathe properly. He was limp and lax in the drifter's hand, most definitely in an advanced stage of unconsciousness. But he still had a heartbeat and a pulse, so whatever the orcs had done to him could not have been fatal, merely painful or shocking. Horatio gently tapped the boy on the cheek, a mild attempt to wake him up that was received with no response. Well, let the boy sleep if that was what he really wanted, the bruises that were fading into existence certainly warranted a time-out period for them to flourish. He'd just leave the boy here until they were going to move again.

Andrew had a dumb, yet serene smile on his face, looking down into the corridor whilst the adults were doing their work. The old man Berlitz reminded him of something he wasn't quite positive about, but the strange feeling was a pleasant one, so he left his train of thought at that. He thought this place to be a very pretty one, a place he should come to often, if it were possible. The only thing he didn't like were the large smelly oinkers that had attacked them, but now they were gone, or perfectly still, at least. Just like Swanky was, except he didn't have the red stuff coming out of him just yet.

"I'm sorry I cried so much." Clive said meekly, his head throbbing somewhat from the pressure of his tears. He didn't like it, it really hurt. "I didn't mean to, it just happened. I'm not a baby. I'm not." He raised his little bandaged hand, showing it to Horatio, like it was the proof of some great feat. "Look. It hurts, but I'm not crying about it, not no more."

On his knees and still tending to Ravendor, Horatio looked up at the little wisp of a boy and grinned sunnily at him. It was a really funny and cute show of courage, now that he thought about it. "Babies throw up on themselves and shit their pants, and kids get hurt and cry. Adults get hurt and cry as well, so there really isn't much of a difference. You potty trained, son?"

Clive turned bright red. "Y-Yeah! Sure I am!"

"Then I guess you ain't a baby, then." Horatio replied, simplifying matters for the boy. He kind of liked this kid, he had a pretty wicked brand of spirit in him to be able to walk out of a life-or-death battle like that and only shed a few bitter tears. Or perhaps it was for another reason, he was just to young to understand what was going on around him. Either way, Horatio was taking a shine to this kid, who looked so much like a forest sprite that it really wasn't funny. "Can ya tell me what happened in there? Or anything else that you can remember?"

What had happened was beginning to look more like a smeary blur in his memory, but he pulled out of his mind whatever he could muster. "I wanted to help an' I came here to follow you and the old man. I found Swanky, then he yelled at me, then Mongo ran away, then we found him, and we walked down here, and I opened the door, and I went in and there was a big bug, but Swanky got rid of it. There was an angel in the corner an' she was sleeping, see, but we woke her up with a star and she looked at us and the mirror broke and big pig things came and we fought them! Mongo got one and they got Swanky, an' I was gonna stick 'em with my knife but then you came. I couldn't do nuthin'…"

"They smelt really bad." Andrew said dreamily, still looking down the corridor. "Like feet and mud. Feet in mud."

"I really am quite disconcerted." Berlitz frowned from his place in the group. "I was specifically informed that monsters did not inhabit this particular ruin. Were Alexander and his sources mistaken, or were we led to believe that that was so? I do not what to believe in." He thought for a moment. "No… The Iscariot family has great honors when it comes to telling the truth. Lord Iscariot always kept his word and backed up his statements with cold honest truth. I do not know if his son shares the same qualities, but until I have seen proof that this isn't so, I shall continue to believe in the virtues of that family."

"The Iscariots." Horatio said bitterly, ironically. "The kings of Sin City. We're really working for them?"

"That's right!" Clive chirped, spreading his arms. He didn't understand the conversation that well, but wanted to add his voice into it anyway. He couldn't stand being ignored for too long. "The big cheese! Alex-ander Iscarryot! He's gonna pay us big!" It felt great to be able to say that out loud, Clive felt like the hand of God itself was backing their merry little crew.

Berlitz sighed. "Let us get out of this hallway at once." He ordered. As the leader of their group, it was taken like a strict command that the boys understood to follow, despite Clive's inner quibble that obeying the pigeon man was like bending to the hand of the law.

"But the treasure…" He began.

"No." Berlitz said sternly. "We go, now."

Andrew walked quietly along with the other adults, but Clive was being forced to hold Berlitz's hand, the child pouting sulkily. The last one was still unconscious and was being carried under one arm by Horatio, not yet aware that he was in seriously deep trouble along with the others. The adults seemed to know where they were going, foregoing all other little tempting paths and just sticking to the widest main one. Clive thought this was a stupid approach, who knew what kind of treasure they were passing up? Though, he supposed, they were in far too much trouble to go treasure hunting anyway.

The two adults weren't their parents, they couldn't really do much more to them than just refuse to pay them, and yes, that would indeed suck, but it wouldn't be that bad. Andrew and Ravendor could get off with something as mild as that. But what if Berlitz revoked the freedom that he had given to Clive from earlier on? What if he marched the boy back into a holding cell and back into Berkley's hands? Oh God, he hoped not. Not for the harsh conditions, and not for the hugely long time with nothing to do. No, it was for the horribly long period of having to live without his gang, his friends. Without them, who was he to depend on now?

"Are you mad?" He asked, directing his question to Berlitz.

He answered far simpler than the boy could have guessed. "Yes." He answered.

"We was only tryin' to help." Clive squeaked quietly, trying to justify his actions. "We was lookin' for treasure to give to youse all. We found some, if that helps. We… we didn't mean to get into trouble and to get hurt. Honest!"

"Nobody does." Berlitz answered simplistically, not looking at Clive. "Nevertheless you disobeyed my orders, came to such a dangerous place without permission, busied yourself with matters that did not concern you, distracted two of my workers from their duties and, worst of all, you put their very lives in danger." His tone was grave. "Do you understand what you have done now, lad?"

It sounded a lot worse when Berlitz put it that way. He wished Berlitz was yelling, if he was yelling at least Clive would have had the opportunity to yell back. Instead, his eyes threatened to fill with tears. He forced them back with a hard swallow and a bitten lip. "I… I-I'm sorry. I wanted to try my best." He managed to croak, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. Berlitz didn't reply. Clive looked at Ravendor, who was still completely knocked out. He didn't look like he was going to awaken anytime soon. "Why won't Swanky wake up?" He asked quietly, to everybody.

"He'll be fine." Horatio replied, a little surprised at how light the unconscious boy seemed to be. "His noggin just took a grand shock, that's all, so he went on a bit of a hiatus for a little while. Just a light concussion. He'll wake up in a few hours with a headache an' some curses."

"I think we had some ice with the packs, right?" Said Andrew slowly. "Will that make the bruises go away? I got this big one on my arm, see, and it kinda sorta hurts."

"It reckon it woulda melted by now, but we packed it nice and tightly, so you never know. I could do with a nice cold drink, something on the rocks." Replied Horatio thoughtfully. Berlitz uttered a gentlemanly 'Hear, hear!' in agreement. Clive was also thirsty too, but said nothing. He wondered why anybody would want to put rocks in their drinks. Wouldn't that make it hard for them to drink?

It was a few minutes after that that they made it to their equipment near the entrance of the Looking Glass caverns. The day was not over yet, and the archaeologist and drifter still had unfinished business to attend to deeper inside, so they left the children there alone for a second time. They were fairly confident that Clive and Andrew wouldn't move again, not with Ravendor lying unconscious in their makeshift infirmary area. It was fiercely boring though, now they had nothing to do. To pass the time, they sorted through the treasure they had already found. Overall, they had five oddly carved plates of stone and one bird egg. Clive ran a hand through his messy green hair, the irritating buzzing in his head having faded into a near indistinguishable hum, now that they were near the entrance of the ruins again.

Andrew was inspecting the stone plates carefully. One had a flame carved upon it, another an intricate snowflake. There was also a lightning bolt and a shapeless blob that could have been a rock or a stone. The writing was impossible for them to read, but it looked prettier than normal writing, like the kinds they saw on notice boards and signs. This writing was loopier, more beautiful and spidery. "Do you remember the carnival that comes sometimes here?" He asked, thinking backwards to when he had seen something like this before.

Clive was existing on the same wavelength that Andrew was. "Yeah, and then there's that old lady, the one with the big shiny rings in her ears. Her clothes were pretty like rainbows, an' her big glass ball told her things." Sitting cross-legged with both his hands clasped upon his knees, Clive rocked backwards and forwards in thought. "She had cards that were like this 'cept they were paper and not rock. More colourererful too."

Andrew frowned. "Yeah. These are pretty, but one of them was really pretty. It had a moon on the front." He blinked, looking at the plates that he had, fanned out like a poker-player's hand. "I think we lost it back there, where the big pig things were."

"Damn." Said Clive un-childishly. "But we can't go back to get it. That pigeon man'd kill us if we do. We're in a lotta trouble now. I might get locked up again." Thinking on this, Clive's lower lip trembled for a second but then he steeled himself again. "Awwww… It was probably worth a lotta gella too…" He stood up, itching to go back there and retrieve the lost treasure.

There came a low groan from the infirmary area. Ravendor sat up, hissed from the sense of vertigo that the movement gave him, then laid back down again. The back of his head touched the floor and a burst of pain bloomed down his head and neck, hurting bad enough to make him want to cry. He rolled over to the side and looked over at Clive and Andrew, his vision blurred by his unconsciousness and pounding headache. "Ohhhhhhh man… I-I'm gonna throw upsshhhh…"

"Heya Swanky." Clive said, looking over to him. Andrew put the stone plates down. "The big driftery guy said that only babies throw up on themselves. Are you a baby?" Ravendor glared at him with swimmy contempt and sat up onto his knees. There was a dark bruise on his cheek, slowly turning a bit greenish, where one of the orcs must have struck him. Clive did not relent. "Well, are ya?" He pressed on.

"I'm not a baby. Nnnhot gonna throw up. Fuh-fuh… fhuck youuu Clive…" He moaned back, pressing a hand to his face. "Oh dear God… It hurtssh…"

Cocking his head, Andrew scratched at it lightly, assuming his deep-thought position. "How come you're talking like that? Did the orc hurt the noodles in your head?" He realised something. "You're talking just like Old Tom!"

Ravendor was not drunk, just considerably concussed. But it was hard for one child, who was in pain, to explain it to another. The dark-haired boy just shook his head in protest. Clive stood up. "I'm going back." He announced resolutely. "We can't leave the treasure behind."

"Don't go back there, Clive…." Ravendor said weakly, getting the hang of using words once more, though each syllable was like being stabbed in the brain. "You'll just get lost again… and then we'd have to spend God knows how long having to find you…" He smiled weakly and rubbed the back of his head, wincing as he touched his painful bruises. "How long have I been out?" He asked, unsure of the time. It had felt like, to him, like he had only been asleep for a minute or two, but one could never be sure. It could have been much longer.

Both Andrew and Clive didn't own a watch, and both were either too young or too dim to be able to tell time anyway. Ravendor would have remembered this and would have simply not bothered to ask, but the Looking Glass's buzzing and his new concussion was only letting a little bit of his brain processing through. He laid down again and giggled, stretching an arm out behind him so that his bruises wouldn't touch the floor. "We were gonna die. I thought we were gonna die. What happened?"

"Oh, that part was so cool!" Clive exclaimed, suddenly coming to energetic life. "There was three of 'em, and we hurt a few, but they was gonna eat us anyway 'cuz we was sort of losing. They were bigger than us, it wasn't fair. Then," Clive stretched one arm out in front of him diagonally and then rested his other arm over it, forming his hand into a little variation of a gun. "Bang, bang, Bang!" He accentuated loudly. "Three dead pigs. There was blood an' everything, it was sooooo gross! That other grown-up, the one that isn't that old man, he just blew them away! You missed out on seeing, Swanky, it was great."

"Do we have to be down here? Are we allowed to go outside?" Ravendor asked, completely missing Clive's smugness and almost ignoring Clive's story. All he wanted to do was get out of there. If he got out of the ruin, then this terrible pain would go away. He was sure of it. It had only been a small pain before, but now that his head rung with the after-effects of the pork chop attack, it was nearly unbearable. Already he was beginning to feel his eyes water from the pain.

"Err… I guess we can go out." Clive pondered carefully, then realised the urgency of Ravendor's plea. "Is your head that bad?" The older boy nodded solemnly. "Then let's go. This place is too cold and creepy anyway. I wanna go pat the horses."

Ravendor was trying to stand up, but Andrew helped him all the way. It was a lot harder going up the steps than Clive had experienced going down them, mostly because the boys were too small that the steps just too big. Clive had to sit on each step and then swing his legs around to keep himself going upwards. Andrew could have hopped up each one easily, he was big enough for it, but he had his arm looped around Ravendor's who was, like Clive, small for his age. It took longer than usual for them to reach the outside again.

"Blue sky!" Clive cried, standing on the grass. "I missed you!" He spread his arms out in a welcoming gesture, smiling.

Andrew had to squint his eyes closed as they saw the bright sunlight again, still used to the darkness inside the ruins. It was much warmer out here, everything felt more, well, alive. In fact, as the boy dragged his friend outside of the ruin with him, Ravendor immediately found his footing and could walk by himself, unaided. It was like he had gone through some kind of immediate recovery process. "Better?" Andrew asked, letting go.

"That's amazing…" Ravendor breathed, looking around like this was the first time he had seen the upper world before. "It's like… it feels like… most of the pain is gone. My word…" He glanced at his young leader. "Clive?" He asked. "How do you feel?"

"I feel super!" Came the cheerful reply. Remembering something, Ravendor reached into his pocket and pulled out his little hand-held compass. According to it, they were facing west. The little needle point wasn't spinning around crazily anymore, and as the boy slowly spun around three hundred and sixty degrees, the compass consistently showed the way to the northern magnetic pole. It was working again, which was good news, but it only made the overall mystery of the ruins seem more… mysterious.

"When are the grown ups coming back?" Murmured Andrew, wondering how long it would be until his next meal. "I want rabbit again tonight, with some beans and some cornbread, just like Violet makes at her food house. She makes the best bunny ever, don't she?"

"Heck yes! 'Cept sometimes the metal pellets get in the food as well."

"Of course. You just have to eat around them."

The three boys looked at the ground, then simultaneously plopped down onto the grass heavily, sighing. Clive was playing with the dressing on his hand half-heartedly. "The old man said we'd be home before dark. I reckon it'll get dark soon. So, Mongo, Swanks, tell me. What was it like to be real drifters?" Clive felt really bitter about asking this, but he had to. "You ever gonna try and do it again?"

"I'm never going in there again." Said Ravendor, firmly and resolutely. "Never, never, never. Not for all the gella in the world. 'S too painful."

"What exactly is a real drifter anyway?" Andrew mused in a remarkably lucid burst of rhetorical thought. "They tell us to do things, anything they want, and we accept, 'cuz we really need the money to live and stuff. If that's it, then it's nothing, I 'spose." He nodded. "Yeah, bein' a real drifter is nothing. Ya just do whatever the one payin' yer wants. Like…"

"Prostitution." Ravendor finished up, then started to laugh. The others joined in, though they weren't quite sure what he was laughing about. The boys spent the rest of the time talking and lazing about until the adults came back, and by then it was the late afternoon and the sun was on cue to descend.

Berlitz and Horatio emerged from the mouth of the cavern, whole and undamaged. They were both pale and white-faced, more so Berlitz than Horatio, but most of all, both of them had been smiling.

xxx

Whatever it was that they had found or uncovered, they chose to not reveal it to the three children. It had a dangerous essence to it, a frightening one, and the less those kids knew about it, then better. They wouldn't have to worry about it even again, not after this day was through with.

Clive wandered around the slowly diminishing setup site, shrinking as everything was being packed up and put away. He rubbed at the pristine white bandage wrapped around his palm and hand, the small cut wound itching a little. Horatio had said that as long as he didn't move it around a lot, it would heal quickly and he wouldn't even get a scar. Clive smiled. Getting a scar would be a cooler thing than not, then he could show it off to people as a drifting wound. The little boy passed Berlitz and Andrew gearing up their two horses, the young mares grazing on the sweet green grass.

Ravendor was busy burying the dead bird he had found. He had liberated a small shovel and was trying to part the hard earth enough to create an adequate grave. He had only made a very shallow trench so far, as beneath the greenish grass, the ground as was hard as a rock. The boy wiped the sweat from his face and leant against the length of the shovel, regarding his shoddy work without satisfaction. Clive approached with a small shovel of his own, smiling. "Is your head feeling all healed now?" He asked, "Mine is, well, it was once I got away from this crystals. Didn't it feel like they was talkin' to us? I remember you said that youse heard voices in there. What'd they say, really? Don'tcha think that those two grown ups would wanna know?" Moving closer to the small depression in the earth, Clive began to dig as well.

"I believe that Professor Berlitz was already aware of it the very moment he stepped into the ruins himself. I am merely grateful that we do not have to go back there once more. I didn't like what the voices were saying. It was scary." Ravendor looked down at their work. The hole was now a little wider and as little deeper, though not by much. The boy sighed. "Keep on digging, Clive. I am going to find some stones in lieu of dirt for this burial." Nodding cheerfully, Clive continued, finding the digging to be fun. It tired out his little arms, but took his mind off the slightly stinging pain of his hand. It was going away with time, Clive reckoned it would be totally gone very soon.

Andrew came back carrying the rocks, Ravendor walking beside him. Opening his bag, he placed the handful of dead bird bones into the shallow grave. It looked a mess, but they weren't going to put the entire skeleton back in the right order, no, that would take too long. This little grave would be honorable enough. Andrew decided to say a few words. "The bird is flying around in the big sky of Heaven now, it will be happy there. Everyone say amen."

"Amen."

"Amen."

"A mens."

They covered the grave with the rocks and left it alone. It would stand there for years and years before erosion would take it away. Clive felt weird whenever he looked at it, there was a slight tightening of his chest whenever he pictured the dead bird lying underneath those hard, heavy rocks. Ravendor was looking at it too and experiencing a similar sensation. Though they never mentioned it out loud, they were both thinking the exact same thing.

It reminded them of their mother.