The Weight of Honor by Morgan Rice

all with faces covered in dirt and smiling back good-naturedly. They all stopped, breathing hard, and Marco smiled and greeted his friends.
    “Marco,” they said, embracing him.
    “Jun, Saro, Bagi,” Marco replied.
    They each stepped forward and he embraced each one, grinning, these men clearly like brothers to him. They were each about their age, as tall as Marco, broad-shouldered, with tough faces and the looks of boys who had managed to survive their whole lives on the streets. They were boys who, clearly, had had to make a way for themselves.
    Marco pulled Alec forward.
    “This,” he announced, “is Alec. He is one of us now.”
    One of us . Alec liked the sound of that. It felt good to belong somewhere.
    They each clasped forearms with him, and one of them, the tallest, Bagi, shook his head and grinned.
    “So you are the one who started all that excitement?” he asked with a smile.
    Alec smiled sheepishly back.
    “The guy pushed me,” Alec said.
    The others all laughed.
    “Good enough a reason as any to risk our lives on this day,” Saro replied, sincere.
    “You’re in a city now, country boy,” Jun said sternly, unsmiling, unlike the others. “You could have got us all killed. That was stupid. Here, people don’t care—they’ll shove you—and a whole lot worse. Keep your head down and watch where you’re going. If someone bumps you, turn away or you may find a dagger in your back. You got lucky this time. This is Ur. You never know who’s crossing the street, and people here will cut you for any reason—and some, for no reason at all.”
    His newfound friends suddenly turned and headed off, deeper into the cavernous tunnels, and Alec hurried to catch up as Marco joined them. They all seemed to know this place by heart, even in the dim light, twisting and turning with ease through the underground chambers, water dripping and echoing all around them. They all had clearly grown up here. It made Alec feel inadequate, having grown up in Soli, seeing this place which was so worldly, these boys who were so street smart. They had all clearly suffered trials and hardships which Alec could never imagine. They were a rough lot, having clearly been in more than a few altercations, and above all, they appeared to be survivors.
    After turning down a series of alleys, the boys ascended a steep metal ladder, and soon Alec found himself back above ground, on the streets, in a different part of Ur, emerging into another bustling crowd. Alec spun and looked around, seeing a big town square with a copper fountain in its center, not recognizing it, barely able to keep track of all the neighborhoods of this sprawling city.
    The boys stopped before a low, squat, anonymous building made of stone, similar to all the others, with its low, slanted red-tiled roof. Bagi knocked twice and a moment later the anonymous rusted door opened. They all quickly filed inside, then it slammed closed behind them.
    Alec found himself in a dim room, lit only by the sunlight streaming in through windows high above, and he turned as he recognized the sound of hammers striking anvils, and surveyed the room with interest. He heard the hiss of a forge, saw the familiar clouds of steam, and he immediately felt at home. He did not have to look around to know he was in a forge, and that it was filled with smiths working on weapons. His heart lifted with excitement.
    A tall, thin man with a short beard, perhaps in his forties, face blackened from soot, wiped his hands on his apron and approached. He nodded at Marco’s friends with a look of respect, and they nodded back.
    “Fervil,” Marco said.
    Fervil turned and saw Marco, and his face lit up. He stepped forward and embraced him.
    “I thought you’d gone to The Flames,” he said.
    Marco grinned back.
    “Not anymore,” he replied.
    “You boys ready to work?” he added. Then he looked over at Alec. “And who do we have here?”
    “My friend,” Marco replied. “Alec. A fine smith, and