“A system of tracks.”
“But why?”
“I shouldn’t tell you.”
“You promised you would. Anyway, I don’t see what harm it would do to tell me how it moves… it’s pretty clear it does.”
The old dilemma again, but what she said made sense even though it was in conflict with the oath. Gradually, I was coming to wonder about the continued validity of the oath, even as I felt it eroding about me.
I said: “The city is moving towards something known as the optimum, which lies due north of the city. At the moment the city is about three and a half miles south of optimum.”
“So it will stop soon?”
“No… and that’s what isn’t clear to me. Apparently, even if the eity ever did reach optimum it couldn’t stop as the optimum itself is always moving.”
“Then what’s the point of trying to reach it?”
There was no answer to that, because I didn’t know.
Victoria continued to ask questions, and in the end I told her about the work on the tracks. I tried to keep my descriptions to the minimum, but it was difficult to know how far I was breaching the oath, in spirit if not in practice. I found that everything I said to her I qualified immediately afterwards with a reference to the oath.
Finally, she said: “Look, don’t say any more about this. You obviously don’t want to.”
“I’m just confused,” I said. “I’m forbidden to talk, but you’ve made me see that I don’t have any right to withhold from you what I know.”
Victoria was silent for a minute or two.
“I don’t know about you,” she said eventually, “but in the last few days I’ve begun to develop a rather strong dislike for the guild system.”
“You’re not alone. I haven’t heard many advocate it.”
“Do you think it could be that those in charge of the guilds keep the system in operation after it has outlived its original purpose? It seems to me that the system works by suppression of knowledge. I don’t see what that achieves. It has made me very discontented, and I’m sure I’m not alone.”
“Perhaps I’ll be the same when I become a full guildsman.”
“I hope not,” she said, and laughed.
“There is one thing,” I said. “Whenever I’ve asked Malchuskin — he’s the man I’m working with — the sort of questions you’ve asked me, he says that I’ll find out in due course. It’s as if there is a good reason for the guilds, and it relates in some way to the reason the city has to move. So far, all I’ve learnt is the city does have to move… but that’s all. When I’m out there it’s all work, and no time to ask questions. But what is clear is that moving the city is the first priority.”
“If you ever find out, will you tell me?”
I thought for a moment. “I don’t see how I can promise that.”
Victoria stood up abruptly and walked to the far side of the platform. She stood at the rail, looking out across the roof of the city building below at the countryside. I made no move to join her; it was an impossible situation. Already I had said too much, and in her demands that I say more Victoria was placing too great a burden on me. And yet I couldn’t deny her.
After a few minutes she returned to the seat and sat down beside me.
“I’ve found out how we get married,” she said.
“Another ceremony?”
“No, it’s much simpler. We just have to sign a form and give a copy to each of our chiefs. I’ve got the forms downstairs… they’re really very straightforward.”
“So we could sign them right away.”
“Yes.” She looked at me seriously. “Do you want to?”
“Of course. Do you?”
“Yes.”
“In spite of everything?”
“What do you mean?” she said.
“In spite of the fact that you and I can’t seem to talk without coming across something I either can’t or shouldn’t tell you, and the fact that you seem to blame me for it.”
“Does it worry you?” she said.
“A lot, yes.”
“We could postpone getting married if you prefer.”
“Would that solve anything?” I said.
I was uncertain of what it would mean if Victoria and I broke off our engagement. Because the guilds had been instrumental in formally introducing us, what new breach of the system would it imply to say now that we did not intend to marry? On the other hand, once the formal introduction was out of the way there appeared to be no pressure on us to marry immediately. As far as she and I were concerned the vexations of the limitations placed by the oath were the only differences between us. Without those, we seemed to be perfectly suited to each other.
“Let’s leave it for a while,” said Victoria.
Later in the day we returned to her room and the mood lightened considerably. We talked a lot, carefully skirting those topics of conversation we both knew caused problems… and by the time we went to bed our attitude had changed. When we woke up in the morning we signed the forms and took them along to the guild leaders. Future Clausewitz was not in the city but I found another Future guildsman, and he accepted it on Clausewitz’s behalf. Everyone seemed pleased, and later that day Victoria’s mother spent a lot of time with us, telling us of what new freedoms and advantages we would enjoy as a married couple.
Before I left the city to rejoin Malchuskin on the tracks I cleared what remained of my possessions from the crèche, and moved in officially with Victoria.
I was a married man, and I was six hundred and fifty-two miles old.
10
For the next few miles my life settled into a routine that was for the most part agreeable. During my visits to the city my life with Victoria was comfortable, happy, and loving. She would tell me much of her work, and through her I came to learn how the day to day life of the city was administered. Sometimes she would ask me about my work outside, but her early curiosity had either faded or she now thought better of asking me, for the resentments never again became as obvious as at first.
Outside, my apprenticeship progressed. The more work outside the city I participated in, the more I realized how much of a mutual effort the city’s moving was.
At the end of my last mile with Malchuskin I was transferred on order of Clausewitz to the Militia. This came as an unpleasant surprise, as I had assumed that on completion of my training on the tracks I would start work with my own guild of Futures. However, I discovered that I was to be transferred to another first-order guild every three miles.
I was sorry to leave Malchuskin, for his simple application to the strenuous work on the tracks had an undeniable appeal. After we were past the ridge the terrain had been easier for track-laying, and as the new group of hired men continued to labour without untoward complaint his discontent had seemed to fade.
Before reporting to the Militia I sought out Clausewitz. I did not wish to make too much of an issue, but I asked him for the reason behind the decision.
“It’s standard practice, Mann,” he said.
“But, sir, I thought by now I should be ready to enter my own guild.”
He sat in a relaxed manner behind his desk, not in the least disturbed by my mild protest. I guessed that such a query was not unusual.
“We have to maintain a full Militia. Sometimes it becomes necessary to draft other guildsmen to defend the city. If so, we do not have the time then to train them. Every first-order guildsman has served time in the Militia, and so must you.”
There was no argument with that, and so I became Crossbowman Second Class Mann for the next three miles.
I detested this period, fuming at the waste of time and the apparent insensitivity of the men I was forced to work with. I knew that I was only making life difficult for myself, and so it was, for within a few hours I was probably the most unpopular recruit in the entire Militia. My only relief was the presence of two other apprentices — one with the Barter guild and another with the Track guild — who seemed to share my outlook. They, however, had the fortunate ability to adapt to the new company and suffered less than I.