Arlen, now holding the spear in one hand, put his foot on the man’s chest and looked at the others. In the struggle, his hood had come down, and the men gaped at the sight. “The Warded Man,” Brice said, and all the bandits began to mutter among themselves. After a moment, the graybeard remembered himself. “So you’re the one everyone says is the Deliverer.” He squinted. “You don’t look like the Deliverer to me.” “Never said I was,” Arlen said. “I’m Arlen Bales out of Tibbet’s Brook, and I ent gonna deliver anything but a whipping to anyone doesn’t start acting neighborly right quick.” The
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