The Dark Symphony

under the dragon, been sung out of existence by a sound creature or, if not that, carted off to the disposal furnaces beneath the arena. Still, what Strong said was true. He
was
not out of his element. It seemed, recently, as if he were always and forever out of his element…
    "Still—" Redbat tried to argue.
    "You would not have survived in his world, in the city-state. You would not have learned their sound rules and would have died in the arena."
    Redbat looked angry for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe so," he said. "Come on."
    The endless tunnels twisted and retwisted, rose and fell through the dusty dimness of the rubble stacks into moments of absolute pitch that pained the eyes with its intensity. Rubble sometimes filled the way so that they had to turn sideways and press their backs against the rugged wall to squeeze by. Other times the floor rose slowly until they finally had to struggle on their stomachs between ceiling and ruins. Redbat seemed to have the least difficulty, his wiry, leathery form able to shrink to startling compactness whenever the situation demanded. Guil Decided that there was more than likely another way and that this one was being used to show him how rough this life could be. Because of this suspicion, he refused to groan or complain, but took the punishment with admirable stoicism—although an occasional mutter would involuntarily escape his lips. Finally, in one of the blackest places, they stopped. This was a room again. The walls swept away to either side, and the ceiling was ten or eleven feet high. Guil was aware of the presence of other creatures, beard the faintest thin whisper of rattly breathing.
    "He brought the boy Gideon," Redbat said.
    There was a rustling that echoed thinly in the damp chamber. A row of four huge eyes appeared and was immediately broken by a staggered line of four more as the manbats turned completely around on their perches to face him.
    "I don't like his looks," a thin voice whined, sandpaper ver glass.
    "Of course you don't," Redbat hissed. He fluttered his wings in annoyance. "You don't like him because he looks like a Musician."
    "Redbat's right," another of the four said. His voice was so gentle and kind that Guil was immediately reminded of the tender gentle Franz who taught him the guitar. Lacking the bat's real name, and so he would be able to think of the creature as something with a personality, he named him after the old teacher. Franz cleared his throat, made a scratching, dry sound. "We must not let our prejudices influence us. If we do, we're liable to lose the only chance we have."
    "Well said," Redbat answered. "I don't like him either." He turned to stare at Guil. His fangs appeared for a moment, curled over his lower lip, then withdrew to the stinking hole of his mouth. "But he's the best chance we've got."
    Strong's hand was on Guil's arm again, applying a somewhat painful pressure as a warning to be quiet and accept. Guil did not need a warning.
    The bat that had first stated his dislike for the boy scrambled around on his perch, still upside-down, and faced the other direction. Now there were only six eyes before them.
    "Tell us what you would have us do," Franz said to Strong.
    "Gideon will go back to the Musicians as if he did not know his true nature, and he will carry on this act for another week. He does not need that much time to do his part, but we will require it to ready our forces for the Day. Then a week from tonight he will see to it that the generators which maintain the sound configurations of the towers are destroyed—all except the Meistro's Palace and the Congressional Hall in the administrative tower. We will keep that structure intact in order to start our own government from there—a symbol, if you will, of our power. The other buildings will fade. When the de-deterioration begins, we will attack and kill any Musician left alive and in the open. Your part will be to attack from the air. As I see it, this sort of attack will be especially effective as it will come as a surprise."
    "They will have their sound rifles," another bat said.
    "We can't wait for perfect conditions," Strong argued. "We expect to have our share of casualties. We had long talks on the matter, if you remember correctly, and we decided casualties would be worth it if we had a chance fur success. And now we have such a chance."
    "Hummpphh!" the bat with his back turned said.
    Everyone ignored him.
    "And whistles?" Franz