"Naught to speak of. When they slipped into the cliff-face, I dropped down to the cliff-top, where I lay and watched. Anon, I saw them slip out on a footpath, without their shields or helmets, and naught of weapons save the knives at their belts. They trudged across the plain, back to the village. I did not follow, for I feared sighting by an early-riser."

Rod nodded. "Wise. After all, we found out everything we really needed to know." He frowned. "Maybe more."

"What then?" Brom demanded.

Toby spread his hands. "Naught. The work was done… and I commenced to feel as weary as though I'd not had a night of sleep."

"Not surprising, with the psychic blast you pulled yesterday," Rod reminded him. "And teleporting takes some energy out of a man too, I'll bet."

"I think that it doth," Toby agreed, "though I'd not noticed it aforetime."

"Well, you're not as young as you used to be. What are you now, nineteen?"

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"Twenty," Toby answered, irritated.

"That's right, it's a huge difference. But that does mean your body's stopped growing, and you no longer have that frantic, adolescent energy-surplus.

Besides, what's the furthest you've ever teleported before?"

"On thine affairs, some ten or twenty miles."

"Well, this time, you jumped… oh, let's see now…" Rod stared off into space.

"All night in a sailing ship… let's assume the wind was behind it… say, ten miles an hour. Maybe ten hours, factored by Finagle's Variable Constant…" He looked back at Toby. "You jumped a hundred miles or more. Twice. No wonder you're tired."

Toby answered with a snore.

"Take him up," Brom instructed the men-at-arms, "and bear him gently to his bed. He hath done great service for our land this morn."

One of the soldiers bent to gather up Toby's legs, but the other stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Nay. Only lift the chair." The first soldier looked up, nodded approvingly, and picked up the chair legs as his companion lifted the back. Rod instantly memorized the second one's face, marking him as one who might have potential.

The door closed behind them, and Brom turned on Rod. "What makest thou of this, Lord Warlock?"

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"Confusion," Rod answered promptly. "For openers, I want him to draw a map when he wakes up. Beyond that?" He shrugged. "We do have a tidy little mystery, don't we?"

"Aye," Brom agreed. "Why would they come so silently back to their lair?"

"Mayhap 'twas not all returned from this sally," Tuan offered, "and they feared the censure of the slain ones' kin."

"Possible, I suppose." Rod frowned. "But it doesn't seem very likely. I mean, I suppose there really are some hardhearted cultures who take that attitude—you know, 'Return with your shield, or on it,' and all that. But their mission wasn't exactly a total flop, you know. Their ship did come back stuffed. They took everything that wasn't nailed down before they burned the stuff that was."

"E'en so, they did have dead," said Brom, "and if they'd gained recruits by promising great bounty with little danger, they would now have reason to fear the wrath of the kin of the slain ones."

"Ah, I see you know the ways of recruiting-sergeants," Rod said brightly. "But they'd have to face that anger anyway as soon as the rest of the villagers found out they were back. I mean, sooner or later, somebody was bound to notice they were there. So why sneak in?"

Catharine looked up slowly, her face lighting. "They stole back like thieves in the night, did they not?"

Rod frowned and nodded. "Yeah. How does that…" Then his eyes widened. "Of course! Your Majesty has it!"

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"What?" Brom looked from one to the other, frowning.

"Aye, she hath!" Gwen jumped up. "The whole of this expedition was done in secret!"

"Aye!" Tuan's eyes fired. "Indeed, that hath the ring of truth!"

"Hypothesis does not account for all available data," Fess said flatly behind Rod's ear.

"But it's got the right feel," Rod objected. "Now, just how they managed to hide the little fact that they were gone for thirty-six hours, I don't know; but I could think of a few ways, myself."

Gwen looked up, alarmed.

"That means, Your Majesty," Rod said, hastily turning to the King, "that we're not being attacked by a hostile nation."

"Nay, only thieves who come in ships." Tuan frowned. "Is there not a word for such as they?"

"Yeah; they call 'em 'pirates.' " Rod wasn't surprised that the people of Gramarye had forgotten the term; their culture was restricted to one huge island and had been isolated for centuries.

Tuan frowned thoughtfully, gazing off into space. "How doth one fight a seaborne bandit?"

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"By knowing something about the sea." Rod turned to Brom. "Is there anybody in Gramarye who does?"

Brom frowned. "We have some fisherfolk in villages along the coast."

"Then, get 'em," Rod called back over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

"Get me a fisherman who knows something about the winds and the coastlines."

"An thou wishest it, we shall. But where dost thou go, Lord Warlock?"

"To find out what's current," Rod called back.

"But there's got to be a current here somewhere!"

"They are not visible on standard reflected-light photographs, Rod," Fess explained, "and when we arrived on Gra-marye we had no reason to take infrared stills."

Rod's starship was buried under ten feet of clay in a meadow a few hours ride from Runnymede. He had persuaded the elves to dig a tunnel to it so he could visit it whenever he wanted.

Now, for instance. He was enjoying the rare luxury of Ter-ran Scotch while he pored over a set of still pictures on the chart-table screen. "I don't see anything, Fess."

"Isn't that what you expected, Rod?"

Fess's robot brain, a globe the size of a basketball, hung in a niche in the curving wall. Rod had temporarily taken it out of the steel horse body and plugged it in Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html to act as the ship's automatic control section. Not that he was going anywhere; he just needed Fess to operate the ship's auxiliary equipment, such as the graphic survey file. And, of course, the autobar.

"Well, yes, now that you mention it." Rod scowled at the aerial picture of the Gramarye coastline, the mainland coastline opposite, and the open sea in between. Fess had taken the pictures during their orbital approach to the planet two years earlier. Now they were stored as rearrangements within the electrical charges of giant molecules within the crystal lattice of the on-board computer memory. "I hadn't expected to find anything except plants and animals—but I hadn't said so. Better watch out, Metal Mind—you're getting close to intuitive hunches."

"Merely integrating large numbers of nonverbal signs, Rod," the robot assured him.

"I should be so good at integrating." Rod stabbed a finger at a bump on the mainland coastline. "Expand that one for me, will you?"

The glowing plate in the tabletop stayed the same size, of course, but the picture within its borders grew, expanding out of sight at the edges, so that the bump became larger and larger, filling the whole screen.

Rod drew an imaginary line with his finger. "Quite a demarcation here—this arc that goes across the bump. Divides the vegetation rather neatly, don't you think?"

"I do not think, Rod; I simply process data."

"One of these days, you'll have to explain the difference to me. What's this stuff Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html in the upper left? Looks like the tops of a lot of ferns."

"It may well be so, Rod. The majority of the planet is in its Carboniferous Era, and giant ferns are the dominant plant form."

"There's a strip of beach alongside them. What's that lying on it?"

"A primitive amphibian, Rod."

"Kind of fits in with the whole ambiance," Rod said, nodding. "Wonder what's under the Carboniferous flora?"

"Carboniferous fauna, I would presume."

"You certainly would. No bogeymen?"

"Human habitation usually occurs in cleared spaces, Rod."

"You never know; they might have something to hide. But if you're going to talk about a cleared space, here's the rest of the bump." Rod frowned, peering closely. "Looks like there might be some small trees there."

Fess was silent for a few seconds, then said slowly, "I agree, Rod. Those do appear to be trees. Stunted, but trees nonetheless."

"Odd-looking for a fern, isn't it? Where did trees come from, Fess?"

"There can only be one source, Rod—the Terra-formed island of Gramarye."

"Well, let's be fair—maybe some of the seed got scattered during the Terra-Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html forming."

"Quite possible, Rod—but it is the mechanism of scattering that is of importance. There must be some sort of communication between this mainland area and Gramarye."

"Such as the ocean current I'm looking for? Well, well!" Rod peered closer, delighted. "Let's see—besides the trees, it's just a featureless light green. Can you check what makes that color, Fess?"

The picture stayed the same size on the screen, but the robot analyzed the pattern of electrical charges that was the recorded image. "It is grass, Rod."

Rod nodded. "Again, that couldn't come from a Carboniferous fern-patch. But it's such a clean break between the ferns and the grassland! What could make such a clear demarcation, Fess?"

"Exactly what you are no doubt thinking of, Rod—a line of cliffs, the cliffs Toby mentioned."

"I was kind of thinking along that line, now that you mention it." Rod looked down at the picture. "So we could be looking at the beastmen's lair. It does match Toby's description—except for one little thing."

"I see no anomaly, Rod."

"Right. It's not what is there—it's what isn't. No village."

Fess was silent for a moment. Then he said, "I see your point. There is no sign of Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html human—or subhuman—habitation."

"No dragon ships drawn up on the beach, anyway."

"There is only one logical conclusion, Rod."

"Yeah." Rod leaned back and took a sip of Scotch. "I know what / think it is—

but let's hear what you've got in mind first."

"Surely, Rod. We recorded these pictures two years ago during our first approach to this planet. Apparently the beastmen were not here then. Therefore, they arrived within the last two years."

"That's kinda what I was thinking, too… Say!" Rod leaned forward again. "That reminds me. I've been meaning to tell you about something I noticed during the battle."

"Some historical inaccuracies in the beastmen's Viking equipage, Rod?"

"Well, an anachronism, anyway. Fess, those beastmen are Neanderthals."

The little ship was very quiet for a few seconds.

Then Fess said, "That is impossible, Rod."

Rod answered with a wicked grin. "Why? Just because the last Neanderthal died off at least fifty thousand years before the Norse began to go a-viking?"

"That was rather the general trend of my thoughts, yes."

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"But why should that bother you?" Rod spread his hands. "We found a time machine hidden away in the back hallways of Castle Loguire, didn't we?"

"Yes, but we disabled it shortly after we defeated Anselm Loguire."

"Sure—but how did it get there in the first place?"

"Why… a time-traveler must have been sent back-to build it."

"Quick figuring, Reasoning Robot." Rod pointed a finger at the nearest vision pickup. "And if they could do it once, they could do it again."

"Why… that is certainly logical…"

"Sure is. 'Sensible' is another matter. But that time machine didn't exactly look as though it had been improvised, you know?"

"Surely you are not implying that they are mass-produced."

"Well, not mass-produced, really—but I did have in mind a small factory somewhen. Two or three a year, maybe."

A faint shudder vibrated the little ship. "Rod—do you have any idea how illogical such an event could make human existence?"

Rod looked up in alarm. "Hey, now! Don't go having any seizures on me!"

"I am not that completely disoriented by the concept, Rod. I may have the robotic equivalent of epilepsy, but it requires an extremely illogical occurrence to trigger a seizure. A time-machine factory may be illogical in its effects, but Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html not in its sheer existence."

That wasn't quite the way Fess had reacted to his first discovery of a time machine, but Rod let it pass. "Well, I did have some notion of just how ridiculous widespread time machines could make things, yes. Something like having Neanderthals dressed up in Viking gear, showing up on a planet that's decided to freeze its culture in the Middle Ages. That what you had in mind, Fess?"

"That was a beginning, yes," the robot said weakly. "But are you certain they were Neanderthals, Rod?"

"Well, as sure as I can be." Rod frowned. "I mean, conditions were a little rushed, you know? I didn't get a chance to ask one of them if he'd be good enough to take off his helmet so I could measure his skull, if that's what you mean."

"No, but several beastmen did meet with fatal accidents during the battle.

Perhaps we should send a scribe with a tape measure."

"Brother Chillde will do; might as well put him to some use. But he'll just confirm what I'm telling you, Fess: heavy jaw, no chin, brow ridges, sloping forehead—and I mean really I sloping; obviously no prefrontal lobes."

"An occipital lump, Rod?"

Rod scowled. "Well now, that I can't really say. I mean, after all, that's down at the base of the skull where the helmet would hide it. Check that on one of the, ah, specimens, would you?"

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"I shall leave written directions to that effect, Rod—in your name, of course. So, then, you are positing someone removing a tribe of Neanderthals from approximately 50,000 B.C. Terra, and transporting them here?"

"Where else could they dig up Neanderthals?"

"The theory of parallel evolution…"

"Parallel lines don't converge. Still, you never know; we'll leave the possibility open."

"But for the time being, we will assume they were taken from Terra. And whoever brought them here outfitted them with Viking ships, armor, and weaponry. Presumably this unidentified party also taught them navigation. But why would they have attacked you?"

Rod shrugged. "Presumably because the unidentified party told them to—but we'll leave that one open for the moment."

"As we must also leave open the question of the unidentified party's identity."

"Well, that doesn't have to be too open." Rod frowned. "I mean, whoever it is has got to have a time machine—and we already know two organizations so equipped who're involved inGramarye."

"The futurian anarchists, and the futurian totalitarians. Yes."

"Right. And, with two candidates like that available, I don't see any need to posit a third."

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"Which of the two would you favor in this case?"

"Oh, I'd say the anarchists probably masterminded it," Rod reflected. "It strikes me as being their style."

"In what way?"

Rod shrugged. "Why Viking gear? Presumably for the same reason the Vikings used it—to strike terror into the hearts of their victims. And striking terror like that serves the general purpose of making chaos out of whatever social order is available. Besides, they like to get somebody to front for them—the 'power behind the throne,' and all that."

"Or behind the pirates, in this case. Still, your point is well-taken, Rod. The totalitarians do tend toward more personal involvement. Also, they prefer careful, hidden preparation resulting in a revolution, not continual harassing that slowly disintegrates local authority. Yes, the anarchists are the logical perpetrators."

"And if that's logical, it's probably also wrong." Rod leaned forward over the chart screen again. "Which reminds me—there's a complete difference in vegetation, depending on which side of the cliffs you're on."

"Totally different, Rod. Grasses exclusively."

"What, not even a fungus amongus?"

"Well, there are a few mosses and lichens."

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"How come nothing more?"

"The vegetation would seem to indicate a small area in which the temperature is far below that of the surrounding forest. I conjecture that a cold breeze blows off the sea at that point, chilling the area around the bay. The cliff-wall prevents it from reaching the interior."

Rod looked up. "Hey! Would that indicate a cold current?"

"In all probability, Rod." The robot's voice sounded a little patronizing.

"That's the current that would go past Gramarye."

"It would seem so," Fess answered.

Rod smiled sourly and tossed his shot glass into the recycler. "Well, enough loafing." He stood up, strode over to the wall, and began to loosen the clamps that held Fess's basketball brain. "What happens after that cold current hits the shoreline, Fess?"

"It would probably be warmed by contact with the tropical mainland just south of the cliffs, Rod. Then it would be forced out to sea by the mass of the continent."

Rod nodded. "From the mainland's position and contour, that means the current would be sent northeast—back toward Gramarye."

"Quite possibly, Rod—but you should not hypothesize without sufficient data."

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"All right." Rod tucked the silver basketball under his arm. "Anything you say, Fess. Besides, it's time for lunch."

"You know robots do not eat, Rod."

"That's funny, I thought you might be in the mood for a few bytes…"

The sentry at the door to the solar stepped in and announced, "The Lord High Warlock, Majesties."

Rod pushed past him and stopped, taking in the tall, saturnine man with the lantern jaw who stood facing Catharine and Tuan. His face was tanned and leathery. He wore a short brocaded coat, fur-trimmed, over doublet and hose, and clenched a round hat in his hands.

Then Rod remembered his manners and turned to bow.

"Your Majesties! I've been doing a little research."

"I trust our new source will aid it, Lord Warlock." Catharine nodded toward the stranger. "May I present Master Hugh Meridian, captain of a merchant ship."

"Merchant ship?" Rod turned to the seaman, startled. "I didn't know we had any."

"I1 truth, we do, milord." The shipmaster gave him a frosty bow. " Tis quicker, and less costly, to ship goods along the coastline than to haul them over the highways."

"Of course; it would be. I should've thought of it. But how did you learn that we needed seafaring advice, Master Meridian?"

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"We sent word quickly to the fisherfolk at Loguire's estates, and those in Romanov. Each claimed they did know there were currents sweeping past the shore, farther out than they generally sailed," Tuan answered. "Yet all claimed further that they knew naught more."

"Of course; they couldn't know where the currents went." Rod frowned. "They never go out farther than they can come back, all in one day. But they did know about you, Captain?"

The captain nodded. "Ever and anon, the lords hire out their fisherfolk to be my crews, milord. They know of me, aye."

"And you know where the currents go." Rod started to look for a chair, then remembered it was bad form to sit in Their Majesties' presence. Brom could; but Brom was special. "At least you know where they go, around the Isle of Gramarye."

"I do, milord—though it might be better to say I know where the currents do not go."

"Really? There're currents all around the island?"

"Not quite; the western coast is bare of them."

"Odd." Rod frowned. "Can you show me on a map?"

"Map?" Captain Meridian looked lost for a second; then he fumbled a small book out of his belt-pouch. "Aye, I can show where I ha' writ about it in my Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html rudder; yet is't not easier to hear it?"

"No, no! I want you to show me, on…" Rod lef his voice trail off, remembering that medieval people didn't have maps as he knew them; the idea of graphing out the outlines of a coast was foreign to them. Maps had had to wait for the Renaissance, with its concept of continuous, uniform space. Rod turned to the door, stuck his head out, and advised the sentry, "Parchment and pen, soldier—

and quickly." He turned back into the room. "We'll have one in a minute, Majesties. Master Meridian, imagine yourself being a bird, flying over the Isle of Gramarye, looking down on its coasts."

Meridian smiled. " Tis a pleasant enough conceit, Milord Warlock—but I cannot see that it serves any purpose."

"Ah, but it does!" Rod held up a forefinger. "I'll draw you a picture of the coasts as the bird would see them."

The door opened, and a round-eyed page popped in with parchment, pen, and ink.

"Thank you, lad!" Rod seized the tools and marched to the solar's table. He rolled out the parchment and began sketching. "This is the western coast, Captain Meridian." He drew a long jagged curving line, then pointed back toward its top. "There's the Duchy of Savoy, and here's -Hapsburg." He turned the bottom of the line into a point, and began to draw a lateral line, full of jags and gouges. Captain Meridian followed his hand, frowning, trying to relate this ink-scrawl to the realities of rocks, tides, currents, and distant hills seen through the mist. Finally, his face lit and his finger stabbed down at the southernmost curve. "Yonder is Cape Souci! Many's the time I've had to shorten sail to keep the southwesterly gale from rolling my ship over as we rounded that headland!"

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"Southwesterly?" Rod looked up. "Does the current come past there?"

Captain Meridian nodded eagerly. "Aye, aye! 'Tis that very place. Westerly of that, milord, I know naught of the current; indeed, I know naught at all, for never have I had any occasion to sail there. But north of that, there is no current; the whole westerly shore hath naught but tides and local stirrings."

Rod nodded. "That's where the current comes to Gramarye, then. This is the southern shore, Master Meridian." He drew a long curve; then his pen wandered north. Meridian watched spellbound as the outline of the island took shape before him.

" 'Tis witchcraft," he sighed when Rod was done, and pointed at the map.

"Yonder is the Bay of Roland, and hither lies the coast of Romanov. This is the mouth of the River Fleuve, and yon peninsula is Tristesse Point." He looked up at Rod. "Thou art indeed the Lord High Warlock! By what magic canst thou tell the shape of this coastline so well?"

"Oh, I know some people who do a lot of flying," Rod shrugged. "Anything I've missed?"

"Not of the coast itself." Meridian turned back to the map and pointed. "But you must draw the Grand Skerry here, midway down the west coast—and Geburn Rock here"—his finger jabbed at the map just off the coast of Romanov—

"and… but, another time." He waved the thought away. "There are a host of such things that are not on your map, but that any seafarer would need to know of."

"Such as currents?" Rod dipped the pen in the ink and handed it to him, feather Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html first. "Would you show me where they lie, Master Meridian?"

The captain's eyes widened. Slowly, he took the pen and began to sketch. Rod watched flowing, sweeping lines grow from the pen-point, coming from Heaven knew where at Cape Souci, flowing along the southern coast, sweeping around the eastern coast and the Baronetcy of Ruddigore, around the Duchy of Bourbon and along the northern coast, past Romanov, past Hapsburg—and out into the unknown again.

Meridian set the pen back into the inkwell with a sigh. "Better I cannot do, Lord Warlock." He looked up at Rod. "I know no more."

"Well, I might happen to be able to add something there." Rod took up the pen.

"One of our young warlocks just made a quick, overnight trip into the west, you see." He began to sketch a concave curve in the lower left-hand corner of the parchment. "He saw something like this…" The curve hooked into a right angle with an upstanding bump. Rod sketched a dotted line across the base of the bump, then reached up to begin sketching where Captain Meridian had left off with the current. "He was following that last party of raiders home, and from what he said, I'd guess they sailed along this route—which means the northern current flows down to the southwest, like this…" His pen strokes swept down to the mainland, then turned sharply to flow around the bump. "You know, of course, Master Meridian, that Gra-marye is only an island, and that there's a mainland over to the west, a continent."

Captain Meridian nodded. "We had known o' that, Lord Warlock—yet only that, and naught more. Too, that much came only from tales that grandfathers told grandsons."

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"Well, our young warlock checked on it, and it's there, right enough." Rod's penstrokes flowed around the bump. "We think this semipeninsula is what the beastmen call 'home.' It's a safe bet that the current flows past there." He didn't feel any need to tell the captain just how safe the bet was. "Then it flows on southward, hugging the shoreline, till it's warmed by this outward bulge of the continent, which also forces it back out to sea, toward the northeast—and, of course, it just keeps going in the same line…" His pen sketched strokes upward and to the right until they joined up with Captain Meridian's line at Cape Souci.

"… And there's where it comes back into your ken." He straightened up, dropping the quill back into the inkwell. "And there you have it, Master Meridian. Between the two of us, we've filled in a map of the current."

A discreetly modest, electronic cough sounded in Rod's ear.

"Of course, we had a bit of help gaining the basic information," Rod added.

"Does it all make sense?"

The shipmaster nodded, eyes glowing. "Indeed it doth, milord." He turned to Tuan and Catharine. "Behold, Thy Majesties!" He traced the current with a forefinger. "The beastmen bring their dragon ships out into the eastward current, here. It carries them across, first to Loguire, so; then, out into the current, around the eastern coast, and away to the west again, o'er the roof of Gramarye, and so back to their home again." His finger completed the circuit, arriving back at the bump on the mainland's coastline.

Tuan drew in a long, hissing breath. "Aye, Master Meridian. So. We understand."

The door opened, and the sentry stepped in. "Majesties— Gwendylon, Lady Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Gallowglass."

Gwen stepped in, and dropped a quick curtsy.

"Well met, my dear." Catharine rose from her chair and stepped toward Gwen, one hand outstretched. "Well met, in good time. These silly men are like to make mine head to spin with their nonsensical talk of currents and capes."

Gwen rose, catching Catharine's hand with a smile of shared amusement.

Rod did a double take. Then he straightened up, watching the ladies out of the corner of his eye. Catharine and Gwen had never exactly been on close terms, especially since Catharine had seemed quite interested in Rod before he brought Tuan back into her life. He didn't think Gwen knew about that—but then, you never can tell with a telepath. All in all, this warm greeting worried him. "What have you two been planning?"

"Planning? Why, naught!" Catharine was all offended innocence. "E'en so, we have found some space to discuss the errors of thy ways, Lord Warlock—and thou, my noble husband."

Tuan looked even more wary than Rod. "Indeed, sweet lady. And in what ways am I lacking?"

"Thou dost always speak of ways to go about beating other males with thy clubs, and cleaving them with thy swords. We, though, have seen 'tis of greater import to ward thy soldiers from thy foemen's clubs and axes!"

"A point well-taken," Tuan admitted, "if thou couldst also thus ward their wives Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html and babes, and the lands and stock that give them sustenance."

"I hate to admit it," Rod agreed, "but knocking a man out with your club is a very effective way of making sure he doesn't knock you."

"Ah, but in this instance, my lord, thou must needs make thy soldier able to strike such a blow," Gwen reminded. "For that, thou must needs ward him from the beastmen's Evil Eye."

Rod exchanged a sheepish glance with Tuan. "They've got us, Your Majesty.

We've been so busy thinking about launching the counterattack that we haven't put much time into the psychic defenses."

"Be easy of heart, lords," Catharine assured them, "for we have."

"Indeed," Gwen chirped. "The means is ready to hand, as Toby and I did manifest when the beastmen fought our soldiers."

Tuan frowned. "I fear that I mistook. Didst thou give warding?"

"Oh, they surely did!" Rod assured him. "We probably wouldn't even have saved the handful of men who did survive that battle if Gwen and Toby hadn't, ah, broken the spell of the Evil Eye."

"I mind me that thou didst say thou hadst, for short spaces, dispelled the charm."

Tuan rubbed his chin. "Yet 'twas only for brief minutes."

"Indeed, their thoughts were too heavy for us," Gwen admitted. "Yet be mindful, my liege, that there were but two of us, and that we acted each alone."

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"You're trying to say they simply overpowered you," Rod interpreted. "But what's to stop them from doing it again?"

"Why, more witches!" Gwen's face bloomed into a rosy smile.

Catharine tucked Gwen's arm into her own, nodding. "Indeed, Lord Warlock!

Thy wife doth think that, if witches do join hands, they may then be able to act in concert. Thus, if we may have a score of witches altogether, they might among them counter the Evil Eye of one dragon-full of beastmen."

"Just twenty of you, against a hundred of them?" Rod felt his backbone chill.

"You'll pardon me, but I don't like the odds."

"Nor do we," Gwen said earnestly. "It would indeed be well if we could have more witches."

The chill along the backbone turned colder. "Somehow, I don't like the sound of this."

"Nor I," Tuan agreed. "What dost thou plan, my wife?"

"A royal summons." Catharine's chin tilted up. "There are witches, husband, who do hide about the hinterlands, on farms and in small villages, seeking to disguise their powers for fear their friends and kin may turn away from them. These have not come unto the Royal Coven through fear of us, or reluctance to leave their folk."

"You're going recruiting," Rod said in a hollow tone.

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"An thou dost call it so. I will!" Catharine tossed her head. "Bethink thee—

would a summons from a mere herald bring a frightened lass to court? Nay. Yet the presence of her Queen would command her loyalty." She glared at Tuan, daring him to contradict her.

"And where do you fit into this?" Rod leveled a doubtful gaze on his wife.

"Lady Gallowglass shall rest here, to train the Royal Witches in the breaking of the Evil Eye, whilst I do wander round and 'bout the countryside, summoning shy witches to the court." Catharine patted Gwen's arm protectively, glaring at Rod.

Rod opened his mouth to argue (he couldn't resist it, even if there wasn't much to argue about; Catharine was just asking for it too plainly), but the door slammed open and a pale-faced guard stepped in and bowed. "Majesties!"

Catharine whirled, transferring her glare to the page. "What means this unseemly outburst, sirrah?"

"Word hath come through the witches, Majesties! Beast-men have landed at the mouth of the River Fleuve!"

"Call out the army!" Rod snapped to Tuan. He headed for the door. "I'll get the Flying Legion out—or what's left of 'em!"

"Nay, milord!" the page cried. "They have landed under flag of truce!"

"What!" Rod spun around, staring.

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html The sentry nodded. "Aye, milord. There are but a handful of them, and they have surrendered themselves to the knights of My Lord of Bourbon. Even now, they ride toward Run-nymede, guarding well their beastmen"—he hesitated, then turned a questioning glance to the king—"guests?"

"They are if they indeed landed under a flag of truce." Tuan rose. "Send word to guard them well, for I doubt not there are many of our goodfolk who would gladly slay them. Lord Warlock, come!" And he strode toward the door.

"Where dost thou go?" Catharine demanded.

Tuan turned back at the door. "I ride to meet them, sweeting, for we must converse with them as soon as we may. An hour lost could means ten lives."

He marched through the portal, and Rod hurried to catch up with him. He shut the door on Catharine and Gwen with a feeling of relief.

"Then did the High Warlock ride east to meet the beastmen who had come so strangely under a Flag of Truce, and His Majesty the King rode with him; for, though they were few in number, the beastmen were huge and fierce of mien, like unto Demons in their visages, who moved over the face of the Earth like ravening lions. They were tusked like boars, with their heads beneath their shoulders, and bore huge spiked clubs, stained with old blood; and ever and anon did they seek someone to slay. So, when they had come nigh the beastmen, His Majesty the King bade the High Warlock guard them closely with his magic, lest they forget their Truce or it proved to be vile Treachery. And the High Warlock wove a spell about them, standing tall beneath the sun, towering over the beastmen; and his eyes flashed like diamonds in dawnlight, and the aspect of his visage struck Terror into their hearts, so that they stood mute. Then he wove a Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Spell about them, a cage unseen, a Wall of Octroi, through which they might speak, but never strike. Then spake he unto the King, saying, 'Lo, these monsters are now circumscribed, and naught can harm ye the whiles ye speak unto them.'

Then spake King Tuan, 'What manner of men are ye, and wherefore have ye come unto this land of Gramarye?' Then one among them did stand forth and say, in accents barbarous, that he was the highest Lord of their wild savage Realm, but the other Lords had risen up against their King and overthrown him, wherefore this small band had come beseeching King Tuan's mercy. Then was King Tuan's heart moved to Pity, and he spake and said, 'Poor noble hearts! For I perceive that these treacherous villains who have laid waste my Kingdom have wasted ye likewise!' And he brought them back with him to Gramarye; yet the High Warlock kept woven tight his net unseen about them…"

—Chillde's Chronicles of the Reign of Tuan and Catharine

"Your name is what!" Rod stared, unbelieving.

"Yorick." The beastman spread his hands. "Whatsa-matter? Ain'cha never heard the name before?"

"Well, yes, but never in real life—and as to fiction, you don't exactly look English." He glanced back over his shoulder at the soldiers who stood behind him with leveled pikes, then looked up at their companions who stood in a ring around the Neanderthals, pike-points centered on the beast-men. Rod considered telling them to lower their weapons, but decided it would be a little premature.

"A word from you, and they'd drop those spears like magic," the beastman pointed out.

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Yeah, I know." Rod grinned. "Ain't it great?"

"On your side, maybe." Yorick rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I keep getting the feeling I've been through this all before."

"Nay, dost thou truly?" Tuan said, frowning. "I too have such a sense."

The Neanderthal shook his head. "Really weird. Like I've lived through this already. Except…" He turned to Rod. "You ought to be about a foot taller, with piercing eyes and a wide, noble brow."

Rod stiffened. "What do you mean, ought to?"

The Neanderthal held up a palm. "No offense. But you ought to have a haughty mien, too—whatever that is."

"Indeed," Tuan agreed. "And thou shouldst be hunchbacked, with fangs protruding from the corners of thy jaws, and a look of murdering idiocy in thine eye."

Yorick reared, startled. Then his face darkened and his eyebrows pulled down to hide his eyes (he had a lot of eyebrow). He stepped forward, opening his mouth

—and Rod jumped in quickly. "You, ah, both have this same, ah, sense of, ah, dejavu?"

"Nice phrase." Yorick nodded in approval. "I knew there was a word for it."

Now it was Rod's turn to stare. Then he said, "Uh—you've heard 'dejavu'

before?"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Know I have, know I have." Yorick bobbed his head, grinning. "Just couldn't place it, that's all."

The handful of beastmen behind him growled and muttered to each other, throwing quick, wary glances at Rod and Tuan.

"How about you?" Rod turned to Tuan. " 'Deja vu.' Ever heard it before?"

"Never in my life," Tuan said firmly. "Doth that signify?"

" 'Course it does." Yorick grinned. "It means I'm not a native. But you knew that, didn't you, High Warlock? I mean, it's pretty plain that I didn't evolve here."

"Yeah, but I sorta thought you'd all been kidnapped." Rod frowned. "But one of you was in on the kidnapping, weren't you?"

Yorick winced. "Please! I prefer to think of it as helping place refugees."

"Oh, really! I thought that kind of placement usually involved finding a willing host!"

"So, who was to host?" Yorick shrugged. "The land was just lying there, perfectly good; nobody was using it. All we had to do was kick out a few dinosaurs and move in."

"You never thought we folk over here on Gramarye might have something to say about it, huh?"

"Why? I mean, you were over here, and we were over there, and there was all Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html this ocean between us. You wererCt even supposed to know we were there!"

"Lord Warlock," Tuan interrupted, "this news is of great interest, but somewhat confusing."

"Yes, it is getting a little complicated," Rod agreed. He turned back to Yorick.

"What do you say we begin at the beginning?"

"Fine." Yorick shrugged. "Where's that?"

"Let's take it from your own personal point of view. Where does your story begin?''

"Well, this lady picked me up by the feet, whacked me on the fanny, and said,

'It's a boy!' And this man who was standing near…"

"No, no!" Rod took a deep breath. "That's a little too far back. How about we start with your learning English. How'd you manage that?"

Yorick shrugged. "Somebody taught me. How else?"

"Dazzling insight," Rod growled. "Why didn't I think of that? Could we be a little more specific about your teacher? For one thing, the way you talk tells me he wasn't from a medieval culture."

Yorick frowned. "How'd you guess? I mean, I know they didn't exactly send me to prep school, but…"

"Oh, really! I would've thought they'd have enrolled you in Groton first thing!"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Yorick shook his head firmly. "Couldn't pass the entrance exam. We Neanderthals don't handle symbols too well. No prefrontal lobes, you know."

Rod stared.

Yorick frowned back at him, puzzled. Then his face cleared into a sickly grin.

"Oh. I know. I'll bet you're wondering, if I can't handle symbols, how come I can talk. Right?"

"Something of the sort did cross my mind. Of course, I do notice that your mates have something of a language of their own."

"Their very own; you won't find any other Neanderthal tribe that uses it."

"I wasn't really planning to look."

Yorick ignored the interruption. "These refugees come from so many different nations that we had to work out a lingua franca. It's richer than any of the parent languages, of course—but it's still got a very limited vocabulary. No Neanderthal language gets very far past 'Me hungry. That food-go kill.' "

"This, I can believe. So how were you able to learn English?"

"Same way a parrot does," Yorick explained. "I memorize all the cues and the responses that follow them. For example, if you say, 'Hello,' that's my cue to say

'Hello' back; and if you say, 'How are you?' that's my cue to say, Tine. How're you?' without even thinking about it."

"That's not exactly exclusive to Neanderthals," Rod pointed out. "But the talking Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html you've been doing here is a little more complicated."

"Yeah, well, that comes from mental cues." Yorick tapped his own skull. "The concept nudges me from inside, see, and that's like a cue, and the words to express that concept jump out of memory in response to that cue."

"But that's pretty much what happens when we talk, too."

"Yeah, but you know what the words mean when you say 'em. Me, I'm just reciting. I don't really understand what I'm saying."

"Well, I know a lot of people who…"

"But they could, if they'd stop and think about it."

"You don't know these people," Rod said with an astringent smile. "But I get your point. Believing it is another matter. You're trying to tell me that you don't understand the words you're saying to me right now—even if you stop to think about each word separately."

Yorick nodded. "Now you're beginning to understand. Most of them are just noises. I have to take it on faith that it means what I want it to mean."

"Sounds pretty risky."

"Oh, not too much—I can understand the gist of it. But most of it's just stimulus-response, like a seeing-eye parrot saying 'Walk' when he sees a green light."

"This is a pretty complicated explanation you've just been feeding me," Rod pointed out.

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Yeah, but it's all memorized, like playing back a recording." Yorick spread his hands. "I don't really follow it myself."

"But your native language…"

"Is a few thousand sound effects. Not even very musical, though—musical scales are basically prefrontal, too. Manipulating pitches is like manipulating numbers. I love^ hearing music, though. To me, even 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' is a miracle."

Tuan butted in, frowning. "Doth he say that he is a blinking idiot?"

"Hey, no, now!" Yorick held up a hand, shaking his head indignantly. "Don't sell us short. We're smart, you know-same size brain as you've got. We just can't talk about it, that's all—or add and subtract it either, for that matter. We can only communicate concrete things—you know—food, water, stone, fire, sex—things you can see and touch. It's just abstractions that we can't talk about; they require symbols. But the intelligence is there. We're the ones who learned how to use fire

—and how to chip flint into weapons. Not very good tools, maybe—but we made the big breakthrough."

Rod nodded. "Yeah, Tuan, don't underestimate that. We think we're smart because we invented the nuclea—uh…" Rod remembered that he wasn't supposed to let the Gramar-yans know about advanced technology. It might disrupt their entire culture. He opted for their version of the weapon that endangered civilization. "The crossbow. But taming fire was just as hard to figure out."

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Good man." Yorick nodded approvingly. "You sapiens have been able to build such a complicated civilization because you had a good foundation under you before you even existed; you inherited it when you evolved. But we're the ones who built the basement."

"Neanderthals had the intelligence," Rod explained. "They just couldn't manipulate symbols—and there's just so far you can go without 'em."

Yorick nodded. "Analytical reasoning just isn't our strong suit. We're great on hunches, though—and we've got great memories."

"You'd have to, to remember all these standard responses that you don't understand."

Yorick nodded. "I can remember damn near anything that ever happened to me."

"How about who taught you English?"

"Oh, sure! That's…" Then Yorick gelled, staring. After a minute, he tried the sickly grin again. "I, uh, didn't want to get to that, uh, quite so soon."

"Yes, but we did." Rod smiled sweetly. "Who did teach you?"

"Same guy who gave me my name," Yorick said hopefully.

"So he had a little education—and definitely wasn't from a medieval culture."

Yorick frowned. "How'd you make so much out of just one fact?"

"I manipulated a symbol. What's his name?"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"The Eagle," Yorick sighed. "We call him that 'cause he looks like one."

"What? He's got feathers?" Rod had a sudden vision of an avian alien, directing a secondhand conquest of a Terran planet.

"No, no! He's human, all right. He might deny it—but he is. Just got a nose like a beak, always looks a little angry, doesn't have much hair— you know. He taught us how to farm."

"Yeah." Rod frowned. "Neanderthals never got beyond a hunting-and-gathering culture, did you?"

"Not on our own, no. But this particular bunch of Neanderthals never would've gotten together on their own anyway. The Eagle gathered us up, one at a time, from all over Europe and Asia."

Rod frowned. "Odd way to do it. Why didn't he just take a tribe that was already together?"

"Because he didn't want a tribe, milord. He wanted to save a bunch of innocent victims."

"Victims?" Rod frowned. "Who was picking on you?"

"Everybody." Yorick spread his arms. "The Flatfaces, for openers—like you, only bigger. They chipped flint into tools, same as we do—only they're a lot better at it."

"The Cro-Magnons," Rod said slowly. "Are your people the last Neanderthals?"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Oh, nowhere near! That was our problem, in fact—all those other Neanderthals.

They'd've rather'd kill us than look at us."

Suddenly, Rod could place Yorick—he was paranoid. "I thought it worked the other way around."

"What—that we'd as soon kill them as look at them?"

"No—that you'd kill them when you looked at them."

Yorick looked uncomfortable. "Well, yes, the Evil-Eye thing—that was the problem. I mean, you try to cover it up as best you can; you try to hide it—but sooner or later somebody's gonna haul off and try and whack you with a club."

"Oh, come on! It wasn't inevitable, was it?"

"Haven't lived with Neanderthals, have you?" '

"Oh." Rod cocked his head. "Not very civilized, were you?"

"We lived like cavemen," Yorick confirmed.

"Oh. Right." Rod glanced away, embarrassed. "Sorry—I forgot."

"Great." Yorick grinned. "That's a compliment."

"I suppose it is," Rod said slowly. "But how come your quarrels had to turn violent?"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Yorick shrugged. "What can I tell you? No lawyers. Whatever the reason, we do tend to clobber—and you can't help yourself then; you have to freeze him in his tracks."

"Purely in self-defense, of course."

"Oh yeah, purely! Most of us had sense enough not to hit back at someone who was frozen—and the ones who didn't, couldn't; it takes some real concentration to keep a man frozen. There just ain't anything left over to hit with."

"Well, maybe." Rod had his doubts. "But why would he want to kill you, when you hadn't hurt him?"

"That made it worse," Yorick sighed. "I mean, if I put the freeze on you, you're gonna feel bad enough…"

The clanking and rustling behind Rod told him that his soldiers had come to the ready. Beside him Tuan murmured, " 'Ware, beastman!"

Yorick plowed on, unmindful of them. "But if I don't clobber you, you're gonna read it as contempt, and hate me worse. Still, it wasn't the person who got frozen who was the problem —it was the spectators."

"What'd you do—sell tickets?"

Yorick's mouth tightened with exasperation. "You know how hard it is to be alone in these small tribes?"

"Yeah… I suppose that would be a problem."

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Problem, hell! It was murder! Who wants you around if you can do that to them? And there's one way to make sure you won't be around. No, we'd have to get out of the village on our own first. Usually had a lot of help…"

"It's a wonder any of you survived." Then something clicked in Rod's mind. "But you would, wouldn't you? If anyone got too close, you could freeze him."

"Long enough to get away, yes. But what do you do when you've gotten away?"

"Survive." Rod stared off into the sky, imagining what it would be like. "Kind of lonely…"

Yorick snorted. "Never tried to make it on your own in a wilderness, have you?

Loneliness is the least of it. A rabbit a day keeps starvation away—but a sabertooth has the same notion about you. Not to mention dire wolves or cave bears."

Rod nodded thoughtfully. "I can see why you'd want to form a new tribe."

"With what?" Yorick scoffed. "We weren't exactly over-populated, you know. It was a long way between tribes—and not very many Evil-Eye espers in any one of 'em. You might have one in a hundred square miles—and do you know how long a hundred miles is, on foot in rough country?"

"About two weeks." But Rod was really thinking about Yorick's choice of word

—he'd said "esper," not "witch" or "monster."

"This is where your 'Eagle' came in?"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Yorick nodded. "Just in time, too. Picked us up one by one and brought us to this nice little mountain valley he'd picked out. Nice V high up, plenty of rain, nice V

cool all year 'round…"

" Very cool in winter—I should think."

"You should, 'cause it wasn't. Pretty far south, I suppose— 'cause it never got more than brisk. 'Course, there wasn't enough game for the whole four thousand of us."

"Four thousand? A hundred miles or more apart? What'd he do—spend a lifetime finding you all?"

Yorick started to answer, then caught himself and said very carefully, "He knew how to travel fast."

" Very fast, I should think—at least a mile a minute." Rod had a vision of a ground-effect car trying to climb a forty-five-degree slope. "And how did he get you up to that mountain valley? Wings?"

"Something like that," Yorick confessed. "And it wasn't all that big a valley. He taught us how to use bows and arrows, and we had a whee of a time hunting—

but the Eagle knew that could only last just so long, so he got us busy on planting. And, just about the time game was getting scarce, our first maize crop was getting ready to harvest."

" Maize?" Rod gawked. "Where the hell'd he get that?"

"Oh, it wasn't what you think of as maize," Yorick said quickly. "Little bitty Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html ears, only about four inches long."

"In 50,000 B.C. maize was just a thickheaded kind of grass," Rod grated, "like some parties I could mention. And it only grew in the New World. Neanderthals only grew in the Old."

"Who says?" Yorick snorted. "Just because we weren't obliging enough to go around leaving fossils doesn't'mean we weren't there."

"It doesn't mean you were, either," Rod said, tight-lipped, "and you've got a very neat way of not answering the question you're asked."

"Yeah, don't I?" Yorick grinned. "It takes practice, let me tell you."

"Do," Rod invited. "Tell me more about this 'Eagle' of yours. Just where did he come from, anyway?"

"Heaven sent him in answer to our prayers," Yorick said piously. "Only we didn't just call him 'Eagle' anymore—we called him the 'Maize King.' That way, we could stay cooped up in our little moutain valley and not bother anybody."

"A laudable ideal. What happened?"

"A bunch of Flatfaces bumped into us," Yorick sighed. "Pure idiot chance. They came up to the mountains to find straight fir trees for shafts, and blundered into our valley. And, being Flatfaces, they couldn't leave without trying a little looting and pillaging."

"Neanderthals never do, of course."

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Yorick shook his head. "Why bother? But they just had to try it—and most of

'em escaped, too. Which was worse— because they came back with a whole horde behind 'em."

Rod was still thinking about the "most."

"You're not going to try to tell me your people were peaceful!"

"Were," Yorick agreed. "Definitely 'were.' I mean, with five hundred screaming Flatfaces charging down on us, even the most pacifistic suddenly saw a lot of advantages in self-defense. And the Eagle had taught us how to use bows, but the Flatfaces hadn't figured out how to make them yet; so we mostly survived."

Again, "most."

"But the Eagle decided he hadn't hidden you well enough?"

"Right." Yorick bobbed his head. "Decided we couldn't be safe anywhere on Earth, in fact—so he brought us here. Or to Anderland, anyway." He jerked his head toward the west. "Over that way."

"The mainland," Rod translated. "Just—brought you."

"Right."

"How!?"

"I dunno." The Neanderthal shrugged. "He just took us to this great big square thing and marched us through, and… here we were!" He grinned. "Just like that!"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Just like that." It was strange, Rod reflected, how drastically Yorick's IQ could change when he wanted it to. From the sound of it, the Neanderthals had walked through a time machine. Dread gnawed at Rod's belly—was this Eagle one of the futurian totalitarians who had staged the rebellion two years ago? Or one of the futurian anarchists, who had tried to stage a coup d'etat?

Or somebody else from the future, trying to horn in on Gramarye?

Why not? If there were two time-traveling organizations, why not a third? Or a fourth? Or a fifth? Just how many time machines were hidden away on this planet, anyway? Could Gramarye be that important?

But it could be, he admitted silently to himself. He'd learned from a renegade Futurian that Gramarye would eventually become a democracy, and would supply the telepaths that were vital to the survival of an interstellar democracy.

That meant that the futurian anarchists and totalitarians were doomed to failure—

unless they could subvert Gramarye into dictatorship, or anarchy. The planet was a nexus, a pivotal element in the history of humanity—and if it was the pivot, Rod was its bearing.

The Eagle was obviously a futurian—but from which side? Rod certainly wasn't going to find out from Yorick. He could try, of course—but the Neanderthal was likely to turn into a clam. Rod decided not to press the point—let Yorick finish talking; just sit back and listen. That way, Rod would at least learn everything the Neanderthal was willing to say. First get the basic information; then dig for the details. Rod forced a grin and said, "At least you were safe from Flat faces…

I mean, Cro-Magnons."

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"We sure were. In fact, things were really hunky-dory, for a while. We chased out the dinosaurs, except for the ones who couldn't run fast enough…"

"How'd you handle them?"

"With a knife and fork. Not bad, with enough seasoning. Especially if you grind

'em up and sprinkle it on top of some cornbread, with some cheese sauce."

"I, uh, think we can, uh, delay that tangent." Rod swallowed hard against a queasy stomach. "But I'm sure the regimental cook would love to hear your recipes." There was a gagging sound from the soldiers behind him, and Tuan swallowed heavily. Rod changed the subject. "After you took care of the wildlife, I assume you cleared the underbrush?"

"And the overbrush; made great little houses. Then we put in a crop and practiced fishing while we watched it grow."

"Catch anything?"

"Just coelacanths, but they're not half bad with a little…"

"How about the farming?" Rod said quickly.

"Couldn't be better. Grew real fast, too, and real big; nice soil you've got here."

"A regular Garden of Eden," Rod said drily. "Who was the snake?"

"A bright-eyed boy, eager to make good."

Rod had been getting bored, but he suddenly gained interest. "A boy?"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Well, okay, so he was about forty. And the brightness in his eye was pure greed

—but you couldn't call him grown-up, really. Still couldn't tell the difference between reality and fantasy. He decided he was a magician and a priest all rolled into one, and went around telling everybody they should worship the Elder God."

Rod frowned. "Who is the 'Elder God'?"

" 'What' would be more like it. Nobody's ever seen it, mind you…"

"That's the way it is with most gods."

"Really? From all the stories I hear, it's just the other way around. But this shaman drew pictures of him for us; it was a huge bloated grotesque thing, with snakes for hair and little fires for eyes. Called him the Kobold." Yorick shuddered. "Gives me the creeps, just to think about it."

"Not the type to inspire confidence," Rod agreed. "And he was hoping to win converts with this thing?"

Yorick nodded. "Didn't get 'em, though—at least, until his buddy Atylem got lost at sea."

"His buddy got lost. This made people think his god was true?"

"No, it was because Atylem came back."

"Oh—the Slain and Risen One."

"Not really. Atylem had been out fishing, see, and he hadn't come back. But Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html finally he did, two weeks later—and he said he'd found a whole new land five days across the water. And it was just chock-full of Flatfaces!"

"Oh." Rod lifted his head slowly, eyes losing focus. "So. Your people decided the Eagle was wrong, eh?"

"You're quick, milord."

"And that meant the Kobold was right."

Yorick nodded. "Doesn't really make sense, does it?"

Rod shrugged. "That's the way people think. I mean, we're talking about public opinion, not logic."

"Sure." Yorick spread his hands. "Put yourself in their place. Why would the Eagle bring you so close to your old enemies if he were really powerful and wise?"

"But they were all the way across the water," Rod said reasonably, "a day's journey."

"That's what we all said." Yorick nodded toward his friends. "We were Eagle's leadership cadre, you see. I was his right-hand man—and Gachol over there was his left-hand."

"And the rest were the fingers?"

"You got it. Anyway, we all said the Flatfaces couldn't bother us much—not with all that water to cross. But one day we looked up, and there was a Flatface Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html floating in the sky."

Rod stiffened, galvanized. Toby, on his spy mission! But hadn't Yorick left something out? A little matter of a raid?

But the Neanderthal plowed on. "Well! The fat was in the fire, I can tell you!

That shaman—Mughorck was his name-he was out and about the village before the Flatface was out of the sky, shouting about how Eagle had betrayed us and now the Flatfaces were gonna come over like a ton of devilfish and knock us all into the gizzard!"

"Didn't anybody argue with him?"

"A few of us did try to point out that one Flatface does not an army make—nor a navy, for that matter. But, I mean, this Flatface was flyingl Everybody was panicking. Some of them were so scared, they actually started digging themselves holes to crawl into! I mean, they were talking magic, and they were talking sorcery—and Eagle had made a big point of telling them that he wasn't magical, and he wasn't a sorcerer. Not that anybody believed him, of course, but…"

"But it laid the egg of doubt," Rod inferred. "I should be so lucky!"

The apeman frowned. "How's that again?"

"Uh, nothing," Rod said hastily. "I take it the people began to believe him, at just the wrongest time?"

"Right. After all, there was Mughorck the shaman, running around telling people Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html that he was magical, and was a sorcerer—and that his god, the Kobold, could make them strong enough to defeat the Flatfaces, and, well ~:. . people don't think too clearly when they're scared stiff. First thing you knew, everybody was yelling and shouting that the shaman was right, and the Kobold had to be a true god, after all."

"Didn't you begin to get the feeling that the climate was turning unhealthy?"

"Just about then, yeah. We"—Yorick jerked his head toward his companions

—"began to feel the wind shifting. So we headed up to the High Cave, to tell the Eagle to fly."

"I hope he listened to you."

"Listened! He was ahead of us—as usual. He had our knapsacks all packed.

While we were slinging our packs onto our backs, he slapped our bows into our hands. Then he told us to disappear into the jungle and build a raft."

"Raft?" Rod frowned.

Yorick nodded. "We had some really thick trees, with really thick bark, and they floated really well. He told us not to worry about where we were going—just to paddle it out into the ocean and hang on. Oh, and he told us to bring plenty of food and lots of drinking water, 'cause we might be on that raft for a long time."

"Without a sail or oars, it must've been." Rod noted silently that the Eagle, whether or not he was a wizard, obviously knew the odd bit about science—

which he should have, if he'd been running a time machine. It seemed that he knew about the Beastland-Gramarye current. "Did he tell you where'd you'd Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html land?"

"Yeah—the Land of the Flatfaces. But he told us not to worry about it, because these Flatfaces were good people, like him." He clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

The slip, Rod decided, had been a little too obvious. "Didn't you want me to know he was good?"

"Uh… yeah." Yorick took his hand away, bobbing his head eagerly, grinning.

"Yeah, sure. That he was good, that's all."

"Thought so. I mean, you couldn't've been worried about letting me know he was a Flatface—that's been pretty obvious all along."

"Oh." Yorick's face fell. "You guys are good at manipulating symbols, aren't you?"

But how could a Neanderthal realize that words were symbols? His education was showing again. "So you built your raft and paddled out into the ocean—and the current brought you here."

"Yeah." Yorick eyed the wall of spearpoints that hedged him in. "And I don't mind telling you that, for a while there, we thought maybe the Eagle had been wrong about you."

Rod shrugged. "Can you blame them? Some of these men are locals; and your boys hit a village not far from here a few days ago. They turned it into toothpicks and meatloaf—and some of my soldiers had relatives there."

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"They what!" Yorick stared at him in stark horror. Then he whirled to his own men, pouring out a furious cascade of gutturals and barks. His companions'

heads came up; they stared in horror. Then their faces darkened with anger. They answered Yorick in growls of rage. He turned back to Rod. "I don't mean to sound callous, milord—but are you sure about this?"

Rod nodded, fighting to keep his face expressionless. Yorick and his men were either actually surprised and shocked by the news—or very good actors. "They hit a village up north, too. I was there; I saw it. Most of the villagers got away, but they carved up my soldiers like hams at a family reunion."

Yorick's face worked for a moment; then he turned his head and spat. "That skinny, catbait Mughorck! He's got to be behind it somehow!"

"Didst thou, then, know nothing of this?" Tuan demanded.

Yorick shook his head. "No one in the village did."

"There were five score of men at least aboard that long ship," Tuan said. "Many in your village must have known of it."

"If they did, they did a real good job of keeping the secret," Yorick growled.

Then he pursed his lips. " 'Course, nobody really would've noticed, with that epidemic going on."

"Epidemic?" Rod perked up his ears. "What kind?"

"Oh, nothing really serious, you understand—but enough so that people had to take to their beds for a week or two with chills and fever. You'll understand we Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html were a little preoccupied."

"I'll understand they were goldbricking," Rod snapped. "This fever didn't happen to affect only single men, did it?"

Yorick gazed off into space. "Now that you mention…"

"Simple, but effective," Rod said to Tuan. "If anybody came knocking and didn't get any answer, they'd figure the guy was sleeping, or too sick to want to be bothered." He turned back to Yorick. "Nobody thought to stop in to check and see if they wanted anything, I suppose?"

Yorick shrugged. "Thought, yes—but you don't go into somebody's house without being invited. We left food at the door every night, though—and it was always gone the next morning."

"I'll bet it was—and your shaman's friends had extra rations."

"You've got a point." Yorick's face was darkening. "But we never thought to check on the sick ones—we trusted each other. You don't know how great it is, when you've been alone all your life, to suddenly have a whole bunch of people like yourself. And we wouldn't stop in just to say hello when we were pretty sure the person was feeling rotten; nobody wanted to catch it."

Rod nodded grimly. "Simple. Despicable, but simple." He turned back to Tuan.

"So we got hit with private enterprise—a bunch of buckoes out for their own good, without regard to how much harm it might do their neighbors."

"So that louse Mughorck was sending out secret commando raids to get you Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Flatfaces angry," Yorick growled. "No wonder you sent a spy."

"Wouldn't you?" Rod countered. His eyes narrowed. "Come to think of it, maybe you have."

"Who, us?" Yorick stared, appalled. "Make sense, milord! This is like walking in on a hibernating cave bear and kicking him awake! Do you think we'd take a chance like this if we had any choice?"

"Yes," Rod said slowly. "I don't think you're short on courage. But you wouldn't be dumb enough to come walking in without a disguise, either—especially since at least one of you speaks good Terran English."

Beside him, Tuan nodded heavily. "I think they are what they seem, Lord Warlock—good men who flee an evil one."

"I'm afraid I'd have to say so too," Rod sighed. "But speaking of good men—

what happened to the Eagle?"

Yorick shrugged. "All he said was that he was going to hide."

"And take his gadgets with him, I hope," Rod said grimly. "The enemy has entirely too many time machines already."

" 'Enemy'?" Tuan turned to him, frowning. "There is naught here but an upstart hungry for power, Lord Gallow-glass."

"Yeah, one who thinks Gramarye looks like a delicious dessert! If that's not 'the enemy,' what is?"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"The futurian totalitarian," Fess murmured through the earphone implanted in Rod's mastoid, right behind his ear, "and the futurian anarchists."

"But you know my devious mind," Rod went on, ostensibly to Tuan. "I always have to wonder if there's a villain behind the villain."

Tuan smiled, almost fondly. "If this suspicion will aid thee to guard us as thou hast in the past, why, mayst thou ever see a bear behind each bush!"

"Well, not a bear—but I usually do see trouble bruin."

"Optimists have more fun, milord," Yorick reminded him.

"Yeah, because pessimists have made things safe for 'em. And how do we make things safe when we never know where the enemy's gonna strike next?"

Yorick shrugged. "Mughorck can only field a thousand men. Just put five hundred soldiers every place they might hit."

" Every place?" Rod asked with a sardonic smile. "We've got three thousand miles of coastline, and we'd need those five hundred soldiers at least every ten miles. Besides, five hundred wouldn't do it—not when the enemy can freeze 'em in their tracks. We'd need at least a couple of thousand at each station."

Yorick shrugged. "So, what's the problem?"

Rod felt anger rise, then remembered that Neanderthals couldn't manipulate symbols—including simple multiplication. "That'd be about six hundred thousand men, and we've…"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Yorick stopped him with a raised palm. "Uh… I have a little trouble with anything more than twenty. If it goes past my fingers and toes…"

"Just take my word for it; it's a lot more men than we have available. Medieval technology doesn't exactly encourage massive populations."

"Oh." Yorick seemed crestfallen. Then he brightened. "But you could post sentries."

"Sure—and we did. But there's still the problem of getting the army to where the raiders are in time to meet them."

"It can't be all that hard!"

Rod took a deep breath. "Look—we have to move at least as many men as your whole village."

"What for—to fight just a lousy thousand?"

"I don't think you realize just how much of an advantage that Evil Eye gives your men," Rod said sourly.

"Not all that much. I mean, one man can only freeze one other man. Maybe two, if he pushes it—but not very well."

Rod stared at him for a moment.

Then he said, "One boatload of your men held a small army of ours totally frozen."

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"What!?"

Rod nodded. "That'd be about, uh, two hands of my men for every one of yours.''

Yorick stared at his outspread fingers and shook his head. "Can't be. Noway. At all."

Rod gazed at him, then shrugged his shoulders. "Apparently, somebody found a way to do it." He remembered what Gwen had said about the lightning.

"Then figure out a way to undo it," Yorick said promptly. "You Flatfaces are good at that kind of thing. We can show you how the Freeze—what'd you call it, the Evil Eye?—we can show you how it works."

"That might help…"

"Sure it will! You gotta be able to figure out something from that!"

"Oh, I do, do I? How come?"

"Because," Yorick said, grinning, "you can manipulate symbols."

Rod opened his mouth to answer—but he couldn't really think of anything, so he closed it again. That's what set him apart from ordinary men. He just smiled weakly and said, "Manipulating symbols doesn't always produce miracles, Yorick."

"I'll take a chance on it. You just tell us what we can do, and we'll do it."

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"Might they not be of some value with our force?" Tuan inquired.

Rod turned to him, frowning. "Fighting side by side with our soldiers? They'd get chopped up in the first battle by our own men."

"Not if we were to employ them to slip ahead of our main force to reconnoiter the enemy's forces. Let us train them in the use of longbow, crossbow, and lance, and send them ahead to wreak havoc ere we arrive."

Rod shook his head. "The nearest knight would charge them in a second. They're not exactly inconspicuous, you know." Suddenly his eyes widened; he grinned.

"Oh!"

"Oh?" Tuan said warily.

"Yeah. If they stand out too much to do any good here —then we should use them someplace where they won't!"

Tuan's face slowly cleared into a beatific smile. "Aye, certes! Train them well, and send them back to Beastland. Then they can attack this Mughorck's men unbeknownst!"

"Well, not quite. Just because they all look alike to us doesn't mean they look alike to one another. But they could hide out in the bush and recruit some others from among the disaffected, and…"

"Aye! Build up a small army!"

"Well, I wasn't thinking on that scale…"

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"Couldn't manage an army." Yorick shook his head. "Fifty men, though, I might be able to get—but that's fifty, tops." He glanced back at his colleagues, then up at Rod. "That's all our hands together—right?"

"Right." Rod fought down a grin. "But put 'em in the right place, at the right time…"

"Aye, fifty men who know the lay of the land." Tuan's eyes kindled. " 'twould be well done indeed, Master Beastman."

" 'Yorick' is good enough," the Neanderthal said with a careless wave of his hand. "Fifty, I think I could get. Yeah. We could hide out in the jungle on the other side of the cliffs from the village, no more than fifty, though. Most of the men have wives and children. That makes a man cautious."

Rod nodded toward the other Neanderthals. "How about your guys?"

Yorick shook his head. "All bachelors. We wondered why the Eagle didn't choose any of the married men for his cadre—and I don't mind telling you, some of the ladies were pretty upset about it."

"Don't worry—it was nothing compared to how they would've squawked the first time their husbands had to work late." Rod thought of Gwen with a gush of gratitude. "So they thought Eagle was a misogynist?"

"No; he turned handsprings anytime anyone married. And if one of the Inner Circle got spliced, he was even happier. Kicked 'em into the Outer Circle, of course—but-he always said the guy was being promoted, to husbandry."

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"Odd way to look at it." Rod mulled it over. "Maybe accurate, though…"

"It is a job, all by itself," Yorick agreed. "But the lack of dependents sure came in handy when we had to leave town in a hurry."

"Think the Eagle had that in mind all along?"

"I'm sure of it—now. So, we'll get bachelors for this guerrilla force, for you—but what do you want us to do with them?"

"Thou must needs assault them from their rear, whilst we storm in from the ocean," Tuan answered. "Then, mayhap, we can bring thine Eagle from his aerie."

"Or wherever he's hiding." Yorick nodded. "Sounds like a great idea."

"Then, it's a deal." Rod held out a hand—carefully, it must be admitted.

Yorick frowned at Rod's hand for a moment. Then he grinned. "Oh, yeah! Now I remember!" He grabbed Rod's hand in both of his and pumped it enthusiastically. "Allies, huh?"

"Allies," Rod confirmed. "By the way, ally…"

"Anything, milord," Yorick said expansively.

"Viking gear."

"Huh?"

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"Viking gear," Rod said again. He was glad to see the phrase had meant absolutely nothing to the Neanderthal. "Your shaman's raiders came decked out in Viking gear—you know, horned helmets, round shields…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what Vikings were," Yorick said in annoyance. "Dragon ships too?"

Rod nodded. "Any idea why?"

"Well, nothing very deep—but I'll bet it scared hell out of the locals."

Rod stared at him for a second.

"Makes sense, if you're trying to adapt terrorism to a medieval culture," Yorick explained.

"Too much sense," Rod agreed. "Come on, let's get back to Runnymede—we've got to start a military academy for you."

The train headed northward with a squad of spearmen leading; then Rod and Tuan; then the Neanderthals, a la carte—or a la wagon, anyway, commandeered from the nearest farmer (the Neanderthals had never even thought of riding horses; eating, maybe… ); and well-surrounded by spearmen and archers. The soldiers and the beastmen eyed each other warily through the whole trip.

"I hope your wife doesn't mind surprise guests," Rod cautioned Tuan.

"I am certain she will be as hospitable as she ever is," Tuan replied.

"That's what I was afraid of…"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Come, Lord Warlock! Certes, thou'lt not deny my gentle wife's goodness!"

"Or your good wife's gentleness," Rod echoed. "We'll just have to hope these cavemen know what a bed and a chair are."

"I doubt not we'll have to teach them the uses of many articles within our castle,"

Tuan sighed, "save, perhaps, their captain Yorick. He doth seem to have acquired a great deal of knowledge ere this."

"Oh, yeah! He's a regular wise guy! But I'm not so much worried about what he's learned, as who he learned it from."

Tuan glanced at him keenly. "Dost thou speak of the Eagle?"

"I dost," Rod confirmed. "What'd you get out of our little cross-examination?''

"I was cross that we had so little opportunity to examine. The fellow hath a deliberate knack for turning any question to the answer he doth wish to give."

"Nicely put," Rod said judiciously. It was also unusually perceptive, for Tuan.

"But I think I did figure out a few items he didn't mean to tell us. What did you hear between his bursts?"

Tuan shrugged. "I did learn that the Eagle is a wizard."

"Yeah, that was pretty obvious—only I'd say he was my kind of wizard. He does his magic by science, not by, uh, talent."

Tuan frowned, concerned. "How much of this 'science' hath he taught to Yorick?"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"None. He couldn't have; it depends on mathematics. The basic concepts, maybe

—but that's not enough to really do anything with. He has taught Yorick some history, though, or the big lug wouldn't've known what the Vikings were. Which makes me nervous—what else did the Eagle teach Yorick, and the rest of his people, for that matter?"

Tuan waved away the issue. "I shall not concern myself with such matters, Lord Warlock. These beastmen, after all, cannot have sufficient intelligence to trouble us—not these five alone—when they cannot truly learn our language."

"I… wouldn't… quite… say… that…" Rod took a deep breath. "I will admit that not being able to encode and analyze does limit their ability to solve problems.

But they've got as much gray matter between their ears as you and I do."

Tuan turned to him, frowning. "Canst thou truly believe that they may be as intelligent as thyself or myself?"

"I truly can—though I have to admit, it's probably a very strange sort of intelligence." He glanced back over his shoulder at the group of Neanderthals.

The spearmen surrounding them happened to lean toward the outside at that moment, affording Rod a glimpse of Yorick's face. He turned back to the front. "

Very strange."

Gwen snuggled up to him afterward and murmured, "Thou hast not been away so long as that, my lord."

"So now I need a reason?" Rod gave her an arch look.

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"No more than thou ever hast," she purred, burrowing her head into the hollow between his shoulder and his jaw.

Suddenly Rod stiffened. "Whazzat?"

"Hra?" Gwen lifted her head, listening for a moment. Then she smiled up at him.

" 'Twas naught but a tree branch creaking without, my lord."

"Oh." Rod relaxed. "Thought it was the baby… You sure he's snug in his crib?"

"Who may say, with an infant warlock?" Gwen sighed. "He may in truth be here

—yet he might as easily be a thousand miles distant." She was still for a moment, as though she were listening again; then she relaxed with a smile. "Nay, I hear his dream. He is in his crib indeed, my lord."

"And he won't float out, with that lid on it." Rod smiled. "Who would ever have thought I'd have a lighter-than-air son?"

"Dost thou disclaim thine own relative?"

Rod rolled over. " That comment, my dear, deserves…" He jerked bolt-upright.

"Feel that?"

"Nay," she said petulantly, "though I wish to."

"No.no! Not thatl I meant that puff of wind."

"Of wind?" Gwen frowned. "Aye, there was…" Then her eyes widened. "Oh."

"Yeah." Rod swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled on his robe.

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"There's a warlock within." He raised his voice, calling, "Name yourself!"

For answer, there was a knock on the front of the cave.

"Of all the asinine hours of the night to have company calling," Rod grumbled as he stamped down the narrow flight of stairs to the big main room.

A figure stood silhouetted against the night sky in the cave mouth, knocking.

"Wait a minute." Rod frowned. "We don't have a door. What're you knocking on?"

"I know not," the shadow answered, "yet 'tis wood, and 'tis near."

"It's a trunk," Rod growled. "Toby?"

"Aye, Lord Warlock. How didst thou know of mine arrival?"

"When you teleported in you displaced a lot of air. I felt the breeze." Rod came up to the young warlock with a scowl. "What's so important that I have to be called out at this time of night? I just got back! Have our, ah, 'guests' escaped?"

"Nay, Lord Warlock. They are snug in their dunge… ah, guest room. Still, His Majesty summons thee."

"What's the matter? Did the cook leave the garlic out of the soup again? I keep telling him this isn't vampire country!"

"Nay," Toby said, his face solemn. " Tis the Queen. She is distraught."

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html The guard saw Rod coming, and stepped through the door ahead of him. Rod stamped to a halt, chafing at the bit. He could hear the sentry murmuring; then the door swung open. Rod stepped through—and almost slammed into Tuan.

The young King held him off with a palm, then lifted a finger to his lips. He nodded his head toward the interior of the room. Rod looked and saw Catharine seated in a chair by the hearth, firelight flickering on her face. Her eyes reflected the flames, but they were cold, in a face of granite. As he watched she bent forward, took a stick from the hearth, and broke it. "Swine, dog, and offal!" She spat. "All the land knows the Queen for a half-witch, and this motley half-monk hath bile to say…" She hurled the broken stick into the fife, and the flames filled her eyes as she swore, "May he choke on the cup of his own gall and die!"

Rod murmured to Tuan, "What's got her so upset?"

"She rode out about the countryside, with heralds before her and guardsmen after, to summon all who might have any smallest touch of witch-power within them to come to the Royal Coven at Runnymede."

Rod shrugged. "So she was recruiting. Why does that have her ready to eat sand and blow glass?"

Catharine looked up. "Who speaks?"

Tis the Lord Warlock, my love." Tuan stepped toward her. "I bethought me he'd find thine news of interest."

"Indeed he should! Come hither, Lord Warlock! Thou wilt rejoice exceedingly in the news I have to tell, I doubt not!"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Rod could almost feel his skin wither under her sarcasm. He stepped forward with a scowl. "If it has anything to do with witches, I'm all ears. I take it your people didn't exactly give you a warm reception?"

"I would have thought 'twas the dead of winter!" Catharine snapped. "My heralds told me that, ere my coach came in view, they felt 'twas only the royal arms on their tabards saved them from stoning."

"Not exactly encouraging—but not exactly new, either. Still, I had been hoping for a change in public attitude toward our espers… uh, witches."

"So had I also, and so it might have happed—had there not been a voice raised against them."

"Whose?" Rod's voice held incipient murder.

"A holy man." Catharine made the words an obscenity.

Rod's mouth slowly opened, then snapped shut. He straightened, a touch of disgust in his face. "I should have known."

" 'Tis a renegade friar," said the Queen, toying with her ring, "or seems to be. I ha' spoke with Milord Abbot, and he disclaims all knowledge of the recreant."

"A self-appointed Jonah." Rod smiled, with acid. "Lives in a cave in the hills on berries and bee-stings, calling himself a holy hermit and a prophet, and sanctifying his flesh by never sullying it with the touch of water."

"He doth preach against me," said Catharine, her hand tightening on the glass, Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"and therefore against the King also. For I gather the witches to me here in our castle, and therefore am I unworthy of my royal blood, and mine husband of his crown, though he be annointed sovereign of Gramarye; for mine own slight witchcraft, saith this preacher, is the work of the devil."

Progress, Rod noted silently. Two years ago, she wouldn't have admitted to her own telepathic powers, rudimentary though they were.

"And therefore," said the Queen, "are we agents of Satan, Tuan and I, and unfit to rule. And, certes, all witches in our land must die." She released her wineglass, striking the table with her fist.

Catharine let her head drop into her hands, massaging the temples with her fingertips. "Thus is all our work, thine, mine, and Tuan's, our work of two years and more, brought low in a fortnight; and this not by armies, nor knights, but by one unclean, self-ordained preacher, whose words spread through the land faster than ever a herald might ride. It would seem there is no need of battles to unseat a King; rumor alone is enough."

"I think," Rod said slowly, "that this is one little virus that had better be quarantined and eliminated, but fast."

"Fear not that," Tuan growled. "Sir Maris hath even now dispatched men throughout the kingdom to listen for word of this monster. When we find him he will be in our dungeons ere the sun sets."

The words sent a cold chill down Rod's spine. Sure, when he said it, it sounded okay—but when it came from the King, it had the full iron ring of censorship in its worst form. For the best of reasons, of course—but it was still censorship.

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html That was about when he began to realize that the real danger here was Gramarye's reaction to attack, not the raids themselves.

"I'm not so sure it'd do much good to lock up just one man," he said slowly.

" 'Just one'?" Catharine looked up, her eyes wild. "What dost thou say?"

"There could be several." Rod chose his words carefully. "When you have beastmen attacking from the outside, and you suddenly discover enemies inside…"

"Aye, I should have thought!" Tuan's fist clenched. "They would be in league, would they not?"

"We call them 'fifth columnists,' where I come from." Rod stared at the flames.

"And now that you mention it, Tuan, the thought occurs to me…"

"The enemy behind the enemy again?" Tuan breathed.

Rod nodded. "Why couldn't it be the same villain behind both enemies?"

"Of what dost thou speak?" Catharine demanded.

"The beastmen's king be o'erthrown, sweet chuck." Tuan stepped up behind her, clasping her shoulder. "Their king, whom they call the Eagle. He hath been ousted by one whom they name Mughorck the shaman. Mughorck is his name; and by 'shaman,' they mean some mixture of priest, physician, and wizard."

"A priest again!" Catharine glared up at her husband. "Methinks there is too Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html much of the religious in this."

"They can be very powerful tools," Rod said slowly.

"They can indeed. Yet, who wields these tools?"

"Nice question. And we may need the answer FESSter then we can get it."

Behind his ear, Fess's voice murmured, "Data cannot yet support an accurate inference."

Well, Rod had to admit the truth of it; there wasn't any real evidence of collusion. On the way back north, he'd pretty much decided that the shaman was probably backed by the futurian totalitarians. Might even be one himself; never ignore the wonders of plastic surgery. What he'd effected was, essentially, a palace revolt with popular support, bearing an uncomfortable resemblance to the October Revolution in Russia in 1917, back on old Terra.

But that was quite another breed from the witch-hunt the Gramaryan preachers were mounting, which wasn't the kind of movement that lent itself well to any really effective central control. A single voice could start it, but it tended to get out of hand very quickly. A central power could direct its broad course but couldn't determine the details. It was an anarchist's technique, destroying the bonds of mutual trust that bound people together into a society—and it could lay the groundwork for a warlord.

Of course, if a warlord took over a whole nation, the distinction between warlord and dictator became rather blurry; but the anarchist's technique was to keep several warlords fighting, and increase their number as much as possible.

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"Dost thou truly believe," Tuan asked, "that both are prongs of one single attack?"

Rod shook his head. "Can't be sure; they could just as easily be two independent efforts, each trying to take advantage of the other. But for all practical purposes, we're fighting two separate enemies, and have to split our forces."

"Then," said Tuan with decision, "the wisest course is to carry the fight to one enemy, and maintain a guard against the other." He looked down at Catharine.

"We must double the size of our army, at least, my love; for, some must stay here to guard whilst some go overseas to the beastmen's domain."

"Thou dost speak of war, mine husband—of war full and bloody."

Tuan nodded gravely.

Catharine squeezed her eyes shut. "I had feared it would come to this pass. Eh, but I have seen men in battle ere now—and the sight did not please me."

That, Rod decided, was another huge improvement.

Catharine looked up at Tuan again. "Is there no other way?"

He shook his head heavily. "There cannot be, sweet chuck. Therefore must we gather soldiers—and shipwrights."

Tuan, Rod guessed, was about to invent a navy.

All Rod had said was, "Take me to the beastmen." He hadn't asked for a tour of Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html the dungeons.

On second thought, maybe he had.

The sentry who guided him turned him over to a fat warder with a bunch of huge keys at his belt. Then the soldier turned to go. Rod reached out and caught his arm. "Hold on. The beastmen're supposed to be our guests, not our captives.

What're they doing down here?"

The sentry's face hardened. "I know not, Lord Warlock. 'Tis as Sir Maris commanded."

Rod frowned; that didn't sound like the old knight. "Fetch me Sir Maris forthwith

—uh, that is, give him my compliments and tell him I request his presence down here." Then he turned to follow the warder while the sentry clattered off angrily.

Rod lost track of his whereabouts very quickly; the dungeon was a virtual maze.

Probably intentionally…

Finally the warder stopped, jammed a one-pound key into a porthole lock in a door that was scarcely wider than he was. He turned it with both hands, and the key grated through a year or two's worth of rust. Then the warder kicked the door open, revealing a twenty-foot-square chamber wijh a twelve-foot ceiling and five glowering beastmen who leaped to their feet, hands reaching for daggers that weren't there any more. Then the flickering light of the warder's torch showed them who their visitor was, and they relaxed—or at least Yorick did, and the others followed suit.

Rod took a breath to start talking, then had to shove his face back into the hall Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html for a second one. Braced against aroma, he stepped through the doorway, looking around him, his nose wrinkling. "What in the name of Heaven do you call this?'

"A dungeon," Yorick said brightly. "I thought that's where we were."

"This is an insult!"

Yorick nodded slowly. "Yeah… I'd say that was a good guess…"

Rod spun about, glaring at the warder. "These men are supposed to. be our guests!''

"Men?" the warder snorted. Then he squelched his feelings under an occupational deadpan. "I but do as I am bid, Lord Warlock."

"And what's this?" Rod reached out a foot to nudge a wooden bowl next to Yorick's foot.

"Gruel," Yorick answered.

Rod felt his gorge rise. "What's in it?"

"They didn't bother telling us," Yorick said. "But let me guess—an assortment of grains from the bottom of the bin. You know—the ones that fell out of the bag and spilled on the floor…"

"I hope you didn't eat any of it!"

"Not really." Yorick looked around. "To tell you the truth, it's not what's in it that Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html bothers me. It's how old it is."

Rod scowled. "I thought that was a trick of the light."

"No." Yorick jerked his head up at a window set high in the wall—barred, of course. "We took it over into the sunshine while there still was some. It really is green. Made great bait, though."

"Bait?" Rod looked up with foreboding.

"Yeah. We've been holding a rat-killing contest." Yorick shrugged. "Not much else to do with the time." He jerked his head toward a pile of foot-long corpses.

"So far, Kroligh's ahead, seven to four."

Against his better judgment, Rod was about to ask who had the four when the warder announced, "Comes Sir Maris."

The old knight stepped through the door, his head covered with the cowl of his black robe; but the front was open, showing chain mail and a broadsword. "Well met, lord Warlock."

That's debatable, Rod thought; but he had always respected and liked the old knight, so he only said, "As are you, Sir Maris." He took a deep breath to hold down the anger that threatened to spill over now that it had a logical target.

"Why are these men housed within a prison?"

Sir Maris blinked, surprised at the question. "Why—His Majesty bade me house them according to their rank and station!"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Rod let out a huge, gusty breath. "But, Sir Maris—they are not criminals! And they are not animals, either."

"Assuredly they cannot be much more!"

"They can— vastly more!" Rod's anger drowned under the need to make the old knight understand. "It's the soul that matters, Sir Maris—not intelligence.

Though they've enough of that, Lord knows. And their souls are every bit as human as ours. Just as immortal too, I expect." Rod didn't mention that there were two ways of interpreting that statement. "Their appearance may differ from ours, and they may wear only the skins of beasts; but they are free, valiant warriors—yeomen, if you will. And, within their own land and nation, the least of these is the equal of a knight."

Sir Maris's eyes widened, appalled; but Yorick had a complacent smile. "A little thick, maybe, milord—but gratifying. Yes, gratifying. We are refugees, though."

Rod clasped Sir Maris's shoulder. "It'll take a while to understand, I know. For the time being, take my word for it: the King would be appalled if he knew where they were. Take them up to a tower chamber where they may climb up to the roof for air."

"To walk the battlements, my Lord Warlock?" Sir Maris cried in outrage. "Why, they might signal the enemy!"

Rod closed his eyes. "The enemy has never come closer than the coast, Sir Maris

—hundreds of miles away. And these men are not the enemy—they've fled from the enemy!" He glanced back at the Neanderthals. "And, come to that—please give them back their knives."

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Arms!?" the old knight gasped. "Lord Warlock—hast thou thought what they might do with them?"

"Kill rats," Rod snapped. "Which reminds me—give them rations fit for a fighting man. Bread, Sir Maris—and meat!"

The old knight sighed, capitulating. "It shall be as thou hast…"

"Dada!" Rod's shoulder suddenly sagged under twenty pounds of baby. He reached up in a panic to catch Magnus's arm, then remembered that, for Magnus at least, falling was scarcely a danger. He let out a sigh of relief, feeling his knees turn to jelly. "Don't do that tome, Son!"

"Da'y,'s'ory!Tells'ory!"

"A story? Uh—not just now, Son." Rod lifted the baby from his shoulder and slung him in front of his stomach. "I'm a little busy." *

The beastmen stared, then began muttering apprehensively to one another.

"Uh—they're saying that baby's gotta be a witch," Yorick advised gently.

"Huh?" Rod looked up, startled. "No, a warlock. That's the male term, you know."

Yorick stared at him for a beat, then nodded deliberately. "Right." He turned and said something to the other Neanderthals. They looked up, their faces printed with fear of the supernatural. Yorick turned back to Rod. "They're not what I'd call 'reassured,' milord."

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html So, it started that early, Rod noted. He shrugged. "They'll get used to it. It's endemic around here." He looked directly into Yorick's eyes. "After all, we're not exactly used to your instant freeze, either, are we? I mean, fair is fair."

"Well, yeah, but the Evil Eye isn't witch-power, it's…" Yorick held up a finger, and ran out of words. He stared at Rod for a second, then nodded his head.

"Right." He turned back to the beastmen to try to explain it.

"No, no time for a story." Rod bounced Magnus against his belt. "Go ask Mommy."

"Mommy^onf." The baby glowered.

Rod froze.

Then he said, very quietly, "Oh." And, "Is she?"

Magnus nodded. "Mommy gone away I"

"Really!" Rod took a deep breath. "And who's taking care of you while she's gone?"

"Elf." The baby looked up, grinning. "Elf slow."

Rod stared at him. Then he nodded slowly. "But elf catch up with Baby."

The child's smile faded.

"Baby naughty to run away from elf," Rod pursued, punching the moral of the Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html story.

Magnus hunkered down with a truculent look.

"Baby stay with the nice elf," Rod advised, "or Daddy spank." Rod tried not to look too severe.

Magnus sighed, took a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"No, no! Don't go back quite yet!" Rod squeezed the kid a little tighter.

Magnus opened his eyes in surprise.

"Let's get back to Mommy for a second," Rod said casually. "Where… did Mommy… go?"

"Dunno." The baby shook his head, wide-eyed. "Mommy say…"

"There thou art, thou naughty babe!" A miniature whirlwind burst through the door and up to Rod, where it screeched to a halt and resolved itself into the form of an eighteen-inch-high elf with a broad mischievous face and a Robin Hood costume. At the moment, he looked definitely chagrined. "Lord Warlock, my deepest apologies! He did escape me!"

"Yes, and I've scolded him for it." Rod kept a stern eye on Magnus. The baby tried to look truculent again, but began to look a little tearful instead. "I think he'll stay with you this time, Puck," Rod went on, smiling. The baby saw, and tried a tentative smile himself. Rod tousled his hair, and he beamed. Rod eyed the elf sideways. "Did Gwen tell you where she was going?"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Aye, Lord Warlock. When the Queen did return from her progress of the province, she did summon thy wife to tell her what ill luck she had had in seeking out witches to swell the ranks of the Royal Coven—and spoke unto her the why of it, too."

"The hedge priest." Rod nodded grimly. "I've heard about him. I take it she wasn't happy?"

"Indeed she was not. But thy wife was never one to think of revenge."

Remembering some of the things Rod had seen Gwen do, he shuddered. "Lucky for him."

"It is indeed. Yet she did not think of what he had done; she thought only of other ways to gain more witches for the Royal Coven."

"Oh?" Rod felt dread creeping up over the back of his skull. " What ways?"

"Why—she did believe the surest way now would be to seek out the ancient witches and warlocks who have hidden away in the forests and mountains, for they care not what the people think or say."

The dread gained territory. "Yeah, but—I thought they were supposed to be sour and bitter, as likely to hex you as help you."

"They are indeed," Puck acknowledged. "E'en so, if aught can bring them to give aid, 'twould be thy sweet Gwendylon's cajoling."

"Yeah, provided they don't hex her first." Rod whirled to plop Magnus into Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Puck's arms. Puck stared at the baby in surprise, but held him easily—even though Magnus was at least as big as he.

"Where'd she go?" Rod snapped. "Which witch?"

"Why, the most notorious," Puck answered, surprised, "the one whose name all folk do know, who comes first to mind when mothers tell their babes witch tales…"

"The champion horror-hag, eh?" Sweat sprang out on Rod's brow. "What's her name? Quick!"

"Agatha, they call her—Angry Aggie. She doth dwell high up in the Crag Mountains in a cave, noisome, dark, and dank."

"Take care of the kid!" Rod whirled toward the door.

Air boomed out and Toby was there, right in front of him. "Lord Warlock!"

The beastmen shrank back, muttering fearfully to one another. Yorick spoke soothingly to them—or it would've been soothingly if his voice hadn't shaken.

"Not now, Toby!" Rod tried to step around him.

But the young warlock leaped in front of him again. "The beastmen, Lord Warlock! Their dragon ships approach the coast! And three approach where formerly there was but one!"

"Tell 'em to wait!" Rod snapped, and he leaped out the door.

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html Being a robot, Fess could gallop much faster than a real horse when he wanted to; and right now Rod wanted every ounce of speed the black horse could give him. Fess had been reluctant to go faster than twenty miles per hour until Rod had had an oversized knight's helmet outfitted with webbing, making it an acceptable crash helmet; but he still wouldn't ride with the visor down.

"But don't you dare try to get me to wear the rest of the armor!"

"I would not dream of it, Rod." Which was true; being a machine, Fess did not dream. In fact, he didn't even sleep. But he did do random correlations during his off hours, which served the same function. "However, I would appreciate it if you would strap yourself on."

"Whoever heard of a saddle with a seat belt?" Rod griped; but he fastened it anyway. "You shouldn't have to stop that fast, though. I mean, what do you have radar for?"

"Precisely." Fess stepped up the pace to sixty miles per hour. "But I must caution you, Rod, that such breakneck speed on a horse will not diminish your reputation as a warlock."

"We'll worry about public relations later. Right now, we've got to get to Gwen before she runs into something fatal!"

"You have a singular lack of confidence in your wife, Rod."

" What?" Rod's double take was so violent, he almost knocked himself off the saddle. "I'd trust her with my life, Fess!"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"Yes, but not with hers. Do you really think she would have gone on this mission alone if she thought there were any real danger?"

"Of course I do! She's not a coward!"

"No, but she has a baby and a husband who need her. She would no longer be willing to risk her life quite so recklessly."

"Oh." Rod frowned. "Well—maybe you've got a point." Then his sense of urgency returned. "But she could be underestimating them, Fess! I mean, that sour old witch has been up in those hills for probably forty years, at least! Who knows what kind of deviltry she's figured out by now?"

"Probably Gwendylon does. Your wife is a telepath, Rod."

"So's Agatha. And what Gwen can read, maybe Agatha can block! Come on, Fess! We've got to get there!"

Fess gave the static hiss that was a robot's sigh, and stepped up the pace. Drowsy summer fields and tidy thatched cottages flew by.

"She's up therel" Rod stared up at an almost sheer wall of rock towering into the sky above him, so close that it seemed to snare laggard clouds.

"So said the peasant we asked, Rod. And I think he was too terrified by our speed to have prevaricated."

Rod shrugged. "No reason for him to lie, anyway. How do we get up there, Fess?"

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html

"That will not be so difficult." The robot eyed the uneven surfaces of the cliff face. "Remember, Rod—lean into the climb." He set hoof on the beginning of a path Rod hadn't even noticed before.

"If that peasant is watching, he's going to go under for good now," Rod sighed.

"Who ever saw a horse climbing a mountain before?"

"Everything considered," Fess said thoughtfully as he picked his way along a ledge a little narrower than his body, "I believe it would have been faster to have replaced my brain-case into the spaceship and flown here."

"Maybe, but it would've been a lot harder to explain to the peasantry— and the lords, for that matter." Rod eyed the sheer drop below, and felt his stomach sink.

"Fess, I don't suppose this body was built with a few antigravity plates in it?"

"Of course it was, Rod. Maxima designers consider all eventualities." Fess was a little conceited about the planetoid where he'd been manufactured.

"Well, it's a relief to know that, if we fall, we won't hit too hard. But why don't we just float up to the cave?"

"I thought you were concerned about our passage's effect on observers."

"A point," Rod sighed. "Onward and upward, Rust Rider. Excelsior!"

Ahead and to their left, a cave-mouth yawned—but it was only six feet high.

Rod eyed it and pronounced, "Not quite high enough for both of us."

"I agree. Please dismount with caution, Rod—and be careful to stay against the Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html rock wall."

"Oh, don't worry—I won't stray." Rod slid down between Fess and the cliff-face, trying to turn himself into a pancake. Then he eased past the great black horse and sidled along the ledge toward the black emptiness of the cave-mouth. He edged up to it, telling himself that a real witch couldn't possibly look like the ones in the fairy tales; but all the cradle epics came flooding back into his mind as he oozed toward the dank darkness of the witch's lair. The fact that Angry Aggie was mentioned by name in the Gramarye versions of most of those stories, in a featured, popular, but not entirely sympathetic role, did not exactly help to calm him. A comparison of the relative weights of logic and childhood conditioning in determining the mature human's emotional reactions makes a fascinating study in theory; but firsthand observation of the practical aspects can be a trifle uncomfortable.

A wild cackle split the air. Rod froze; the cackle faded, slackened, and turned into sobbing. Rod frowned and edged closer to the cave… Gwen's voice! He could hear her murmuring, soothing. Rod felt his body relax; in fact, he almost went limp. He hadn't realized he'd been that worried. But if Gwen was doing the comforting, well… she couldn't be in too much danger. Could she?

Not at the moment, at least. He straightened and took a firm step forward to stride into the cave—but the testy crackle of the old woman's voice froze him in his tracks.

"Aye, I know, they are not all villains. They could not be, could they? Yet I would never guess it from my own life!"

Gwen, Rod decided, was amazing. She couldn't have been here more than half Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 03 - King Kobold Revived (v1.0) (html).html an hour ahead of him, and already she had the old witch opened up and talking.

Gwen murmured an answer, but Rod couldn't make it out. He frowned, edging closer to the cave—just in time to hear old Agatha say, "Rejoice, lass, that thou dost live in the new day which has dawned upon us—when the Queen protects those with witch-power, and a witch may find a warlock to wed her."

"In that, I know I am fortunate, reverend dame," Gwen answered.

Rod blushed. He actually blushed. This was going too far. He was eavesdropping for certain now. He straightened his shoulders and stepped into the cave.

"Ahem!" It was very dim. He could scarcely make out anything—except two female figures seated in front of a fire. The older one's head snapped up as she heard him. Her face was lit by the firelight below, which made it look unearthly enough; but even by itself, it was a hideous, bony face.

For a second, she stared at him. Then the face split into a gargoyle grin, with a huge cackle. "Eh, what have we here? Can we not even speak of men without their intruding upon us?"

Gwen looked up, startled. Then her face lit with, delighted surprise. "My lord!"

She leaped to her feet and came toward him.