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onsiderably 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 clausnottrophobic nightmare he remembered。 Kobolds； goblins； ores； gnolls； bugnotbears； 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 disnotmissed 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 well…fed 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 menotmentos of hated enemies； but they sent them to a taxidermist first。 It was too bad the bugbear hadn't done the same。 It would