King Kobold revived-Warlock-2.5 by Christopher Stasheff

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 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 I 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 ap-proach 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 dur-ing 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?”
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    “That was rather the general trend of my thoughts, yes.”
    “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 il-logical 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 ro-botic 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 not in its sheer existence.”
    That wasn’t quite the way Fess had reacted to his first discovery of a time ma-chine, 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 nean-derthals 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