To Conquer Chaos by John Brunner

barrenland than come nowadays?” He looked at his host.
    Malling was big, and ruddy-cheeked, and Yanderman would have guessed if no one had told him that he was the senior of the five, because he was much the most conservative. He said, “I concede that is so. Nonetheless those that come are if anything more dangerous than before. And the ways of devils are not as plain as the ways of men.”
    “Devils?” Yanderman said. “All the things I’ve seen were animals, for they could be killed. What is a devil?”
    “Oh, we have seen one,” the wise men hastened to assure him. “It’s in Rost’s house, across the yard of the fort.”
    Yanderman, wondering what in the world they meant, showed his interest, and Malling obtained Rost’s permission to send a servant for the “devil”.
    “This one,” Rost explained, “came from the barrenland not so many years ago—ten, or twelve. It had a voice, as I myself heard, and formed some sounds like words, and for some time there was argument to and fro as to whether it was a natural being. It was weak, and could easily be restrained, though sometimes it struck out at those who went near it. In the end it was agreed by the wise men of the time—I had not been chosen then—that since it had been seen to come from the barrenland it could not be a natural creature. There it is.”
    Yanderman started forward from his chair with an oath, and plucked a torch from the wall as he halted near the door. Two brawny servants were carrying through the narrow opening the “devil” that Rost had spoken of.
    And it was a man.
    The corpse had been desiccated to preserve it—probably by exposure to hot sun and dry wind, while shielded from flies and carrion-eaters. Now its skin was stretched drum-tight, yellow in the flickering light, over the skull and ribs. The internal organs had been removed, so that below the ribs there was a hollow, but the arms and legs also had the skin on them. The feet were nailed to a wooden platform, and thongs had been threaded into holes in its back to tie the spine to a supporting post. It was very dusty.
    “But that was a man,” Yanderman said slowly. Under his breath he added, “Poor ‘devil’!”
    “It was not,” insisted Rost and Malling simultaneously. “Men do not live in the barrenland. Therefore it was a devil. True, it took the semblance of a man, but perhaps that was because we had killed so many of the other monsters that it tried to disguise itself.”
    Yanderman ignored their babbling. He had the mummy brought into the middle of the room and studied it minutely. Whoever this man had been, he was not of a stock that Yanderman recognised; his head was much rounder than most people’s, his cheekbones were higher and his jaw shorter.
    But he was certainly human. And he had come out of the barrenland, where nothing was supposed to exist except monsters …
    He turned to the wise men. “Is it not possible that he was from another village—town—close to the barrenland, and wandered into it and then out again, close to Lagwich?”
    “Impossible,” Rost hastened to assure him. “For one thing, he was different in certain ways from any man we have ever seen—his build, the colour of his skin. For another, we sent to inquire of all the other towns we could, and heard no account of any such man being lost.”
    So either he had come from the far side of the barrenland, or …
    Yanderman checked himself, despite surging excitement. He put the torch back in its sconce and indicated that the servants could carry the gruesome trophy away.
    The wise men spent the rest of the evening trying to convince him that it really was a devil, and he paid no attention.

    Rather than have his party split up among lodgings all over the town, Yanderman had organised them under canvas in the yard of the fort. The townsfolk thought the visitors off their heads for planning to sleep on a stone pavement, and Malling had insisted that Yanderman at least have a