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eature—the product of a mating of goblin and ore perhaps—stumbled backward and fell on his rump。
〃Cutpurse；〃 the warrior explained。 〃I hate this place。〃
〃No pangs of nostalgia？〃
Ryld glowered。 〃That isn't funny。〃
〃No？ Then I beg your pardon；〃 Pharaun said with a smirk。 〃I wonder why this precinct always seems so sordid； even on those rare occasions when one finds oneself alone in a plaza or boulevard。 Well； the smell； of course。 We don't call them the Stench streets for nothing； but the buildings； though generally more modest than those encountered elsewhere in the city； still wear the same graceful shapes our ancestors cut from the living rock。〃
The teachers paused to let a spider with legs as long as broadswords scuttle across the street。 The Braeryn notoriously harbored hordes of the sacred creatures。 Sacred or not； Pharaun reviewed his mental list of ready spells； but the arachnid ignored the disguised dark elves
〃That's a foolish question；〃 said Ryld。 〃Why does the Braeryn seem foul？ The inhabitants〃
〃Ah； but did the living refuse of our society generate the atmosphere of the district； or did that malignant spirit exist from the beginning and lure the wretched to its domain？〃
〃I'm no metaphysician；〃 said Ryld。 〃All I know is that somebody should clear the scavengers out of here。〃
Pharaun chuckled。 〃What if said clearing had occurred when you were a tyke？〃
〃I don't mean exterminate them—except for the hopeless cases—but why just let them squat here in their dirt like a festering chancre on the city？ Why not find something useful for them to do？〃
〃Ah； but they're already useful。 Status is all； is it not？ Does it not follow； then； that no Menzoberranyr can find contentment without someone upon whom she can look down。〃
〃We have slaves。〃
〃They won't do。 Predicate your claim to selfrespect on their existence and you tacitly acknowledge you're only slightly better than a thrall yourself。 Happily； here in the Stench streets； we find a populace starving； filthy； penniless； riddled with disease； living twenty or thirty to a room； yet nominally free。 The humblest moner in Many folk or even Eastmyr can turn up his nose at them and feel smug。〃
〃You really think that's the reason Matron Baenre hasn't ordered the slum scoured clean？〃
〃Well； if that conjecture seems implausible； here's another： Rumor has it that from time to time； someone meets the goddess herself in the Braeryn。 Supposedly she likes to visit here in mortal guise。 The matrons may feel that the neighborhood is； in some sense； under her protection。〃 The wizard hesitated。 〃Though if Lolth has gone away for good； perhaps they don't need to worry about it anymore。〃
Ryld shook his head。 〃It's still so hard to belie—〃
Pharaun pointed。 〃Look。〃
Ryld turned。
On a curving wall below a dark elf's eye level was a sketch； this time smeared in blue。 It consisted of three overlapping ovals； conceivably representing the links of a chain。
〃It's a different mark；〃 said Ryld。 〃Hobgoblin maybe； though I couldn't tell you the tribe。〃
〃Don't be intentionally dim。 It's the same peculiar； reckless； pointless crime。〃
〃Fair enough； and it's still irrelevant to our endeavors。〃
〃It's a dull mind that never transcends pragmatics。 Two signs； representing two races； implying two specimens of the lesser races demented in precisely the same way？ Unlikely； yet why would a single artist daub an emblem not his own？〃
〃Coincidence？〃
〃I doubt it； but as yet I can't provide a better answer。〃
〃It's a puzzle for another day； remember？〃
〃Indeed。〃
The masters walked on。
〃Still；〃 pressed Pharaun； 〃don't you wonder how many scrawled signs we passed without noticing and exactly what form they took？〃
Ignoring the question； Ryld pointed and said； 〃That's our destination。〃
The house's limestone door stood open； most likely for ventilation； for the interior radiated a perceptible warmth； the product of a multitude of tenants crammed in together。 It also emitted a muddled drone and a thick stink considerably fouler than the unpleasant smell that clung to the Braeryn as a whole。
Ryld had been born in a similar warren； had fought like a demon to escape it； and he felt a strange reluctance to venture in； as if squalor wouldn't let him escape a second time。 Unwilling to appear timid and foolish in the eyes of his friend； he hid the feeling behind an impassive warrior's countenance。
Pharaun； however； freely demonstrated his own distaste。 The porcine eyes in his illusory ore face watered； and he swallowed； no doubt trying to quell a surge of queasiness。
〃Get used to it；〃 said Ryld。
〃I'll be all right。 I've visited the Braeryn frequently enough to have some notion of what these little hells are like； though I confess I never entered one。〃
〃Then stick close and let me do the talking。 Don't stare at anybody； or look anyone in the eye。 They're likely to take it as an insult or challenge。 Don't touch anyone or anything if you can avoid it。 Half the residents are sick and probably contagious。〃
〃Really？ And their palace gives off such a salubrious air Ah； well； lead on。”
Ryld did as his friend had asked。 Beyond the threshold was the claustrophobic nightmare he remembered。 Kobolds； goblins； ores； gnolls； bugbears； hobgoblins； and a sprinkling of less mon creatures squeezed into every available space。 Some； the warrior knew； were runaway slaves。 Others had entered the service of Menzoberranyr travelers who picked them up in far corners of the world； took them back to the city； and dismissed them without any means of making their way home。 The rest were descendants of unfortunate souls in the first two categories。
Wherever they came from； the paupers were trapped in the Braeryn； begging； stealing； scavenging； preying on one another—often in the most literal sense—and hiring on for any dangerous； filthy job anyone cared to give them。 It was the only way they could survive。
This particular lot had likewise learned to live packed into the mon space without the slightest vestige of privacy。 Undercreatures babbled； cooked； ate； drank； tended a still； brawled； twitched and moaned in the throes of sickness； shook and cuffed their shrieking infants； threw dice； fornicated； relieved themselves； and； amazingly； slept； all in plain view of anyone with the ill luck to look in their direction。
As Ryld had expected； within moments of their entrance； a pair of toughs—in this instance bugbears—slouched forward to accost them。 With their coarse； shaggy manes and square； prominent jaws； bugbears were the largest and strongest of the goblin peoples； towering over the rest—and dark elves； too； for that matter。 This pair was； by the standards of their destitute household； relatively wellfed and adequately dressed。 They likely bullied tribute out of the rest。
〃You don't live here；〃 rumbled the taller of the two。
He wore what appeared to be a severed goblin hand strung around his burly neck。 Drow occasionally affected similar ornaments； usually mementos of hated enemies； but they sent them to a taxidermist first。 It was too bad the bugbear hadn't done the same。 It would have prevented the rot and the carrion smell。
〃No；〃 Ryld said； tossing the bugbear a shaved coin； paying the toll to pass in and out of the h