He paused for a minute. "Petra, is the adventure I'm supposed to have, the war? Is that why you're reminding me not to forget?"
"I wish it were that simple, Let. Let's say that's part of it."
"Oh," said Let.
"Just promise to remember the story, and what I've said."
"I will," said Let, wondering. "I will."
Jon walked down a long spiral staircase, nodded to the guard at the foot, passed into the castle garden, paused to squint at the sun, and went out the gate. Getting in was a lot more difficult.
CHAPTER III
The Devil's Pot overturned its foul jelly at the city's edge. Thirteen alleys lined with old stone houses was its nucleus; many of them were ruined, built over, and ruined again. These were the oldest structures in Toron. Thick with humanity and garbage, it reached from the waterfront to the border of the hive houses in which lived the clerks and professionals of Toron. Clapboard alternated with hastily constructed sheet-metal buildings with no room between. The metal rusted; the clapboard sagged. The waterfront housed the temporary prison, the immigration offices, and the launch service that went out to the aquariums and hydroponics plants that floated on vast pontoons three miles away.