The Dark Symphony

and though only a sound configuration directed by technicians behind the Bench, it licked its thick, black lips in hunger…
    Guil refrained from getting it over with in one quick blast of the sound rifle. It was tempting to level the big weapon and pulverize the dragon, shatter its arrangement of sound patterns and dissipate it But if he chose the easy way out and did not prove to the judges' satisfaction that he was the master of sound and a competent user of the Eight Rules, then they would most certainly not let him out of the arena alive. Or if they did, it would be only to let the proper attendants take him to the disposal furnaces and ash him. He slipped the sound-sedative whistle between his teeth, bit down on it until his teeth ached, waiting for the dragon to make its move.
    But the dragon fancied itself a cat and decided he was a mouse to be played with. It prowled around the end of the arena, watching the galleries as if it did not see him, as if its confrontation would be with the spectators. However, he could tell when its eyes flicked for short moments in his direction, gauging the distance and the chances so the engineers guiding it could know when to leap. It roared at the walls, and the roar echoed briefly before the walls negated it Guil waited, weary with waiting and wishing the action would start. He shifted from one foot to the other, the gun still clenched in his hand, his free arm across the other, forming a cradle to hold the gun. Seconds passed in an agonizing crawl. Then minutes.
    And suddenly the dragon leaped…
    Guil jumped in surprise despite himself. Sweat popped out on his face, and his nose watered slightly. At first, it appeared as if the beast were going to cross the distance between them in that single leap. It hung impossibly in the air, huge, covering dozens of feet with its fall back to the floor. But it did not make the entire distance and crashed ponderously to the stone twenty feet away. Guil backed hurriedly, for he could see that the long neck could just about make up for the remaining distance. As he backed, he blew the whistle until his face reddened and his ears grew hot with rushing blood.
    The dragon snorted again, shaking its massive head in wild fury.
    Guil continued to blow the whistle.
    The sound was almost inaudible.
    The dragon's eyes widened for a moment, then grew heavy. Its floppy ears raised like great tents as if straining to pick up each shrill note of the sound-sedative, then withered back like dying flowers.
    He blew again, longer this time, holding out until his chest screamed for air and he had to stop and suck violently for breath before continuing.
    The beast leaped, crashing short again, unsteady. Its massive legs seemed to vibrate like jelly. It tried to run, wobbled sideways, and fell down clumsily on its rump.
    Guil blew and blew.
    The dragon shook its head again, ears slapping loudly against the sides of its skull, and struggled to its feet The process was slow and arduous, but it managed to raise itself again. The engineers fighting to hold the mobility pattern of the configuration must have let out a small cheer at this final rally of their robot When it was erect once more, it started after the boy, wobbling drunkenly, obviously on its last legs.
    This is too easy
, Guil thought Still, he blew the whistle, always backing, his eyes fixed to the tremendous jaws and the saberlike teeth of his adversary—and to the feet that were as big around as the stumps of felled oak trees.
    The dragon tried to leap once more, but it could not cope with the sound-sedative whistle and fell onto its side. Ashcan lids slid oily down its gargantuan orbs, and it fell into sleep.
    There was appreciative applause from the galleries.
    Guil was reluctant to believe the monster had really ceased to battle and was not just playing a shrewd game of possum in preparation for jumping up and gouging Gull's heart from his chest. He continued to sound the whistle. His cheeks ached, and his eyes felt as if they would pop out of their sockets and roll across the floor to become lost in the cream and black swirls splashing the copper. An unwilling Oedipus. He had a fleeting vision of everyone crawling around on the arena floor looking for his eyes, the tests momentarily suspended until his vision could be restored.
    Finally, the dragon emitted belches that tried to emulate snores. A touch of comedy by the sound engineers.
    Guil dropped the whistle from his mouth, let it slap