Gove’s first thought was that no, Miter had not been lying; these were not town guards.
The north circuit guardsen were equipped in proper armor, heavy broad iron plates tied together and rattling across their torsos; they had shortbows stowed in quivers hung across their backs. Their boots were thick, fine leather; she could hear the muffled wood soles booming across the planks of the bridge. And they all looked like they’d wrestled a bear or two; the two women in front both had scars visible on their faces beneath the telltale fur hats.
The confusion of the difference meant that she did not immediately bolt, as she had promised herself she would; and Miter grabbed her arm before she changed her mind.
“Gove—” he gently led her back against the house where he’d met the weaver earlier; “—don’t do anything stupid.”
She turned to glare at him, and saw him staring at the parading guards with a strange look on his face — his eyes alight, his brow furrowed.
“Do you … know them?”
Miter nodded, absently. “I don’t know why they’re here, though.”
The flow of the crowd had completely reversed. People were following the guards back into the square, and the volume of conversation was rising with excitement. Gove saw two guards hand-pulling a cart, laden with pelts, and standing in it was a woman who was undoubtedly in charge; she had a formal shawl over her armor.
Miter’s hand on her arm twitched as he stared at the woman, who was holding up wolf pelts and draping them over her arms despite the heat.
Gove whispered; “Who is she?”
“That’s the captain, Yaska.” He kept staring as the cart wheeled through the fog towards the market.
Behind the cart walked two guards with pelts hung like banners from long spears; wolf pelts, Gove guessed. Another ten or so marched behind them; and the crowd followed. She hesitated as Miter tugged her with him towards the market square; but her curiosity got the better of her.
The market square had rearranged itself around Yaska, who stood atop the cart draped in full north circuit regalia and layers of wolf pelts despite the season. Gove suddenly felt chilled in her summer shift and shortened pants. She had tried to tuck herself half behind Miter, but he made some comment about blocking her view, and firmly pushed her in front of him. Mercifully the square was thick with people and fog, and they were to the side, not directly in the captain’s line of sight. Gove took in a deep, steadying breath.