---
Mihos watched him with narrowed eyes and the half-curved mouth of a man who disliked losing control of a conversation he thought he had already arranged.
Sekhmet guessed it well and thought, "Good. Let him dislike it."
For one moment, no one answered.
Then Mihos moved first. He reached inside the inner fold of his robe and drew out a small box.
Not large. Not ornate enough to be mistaken for gift jewelry or some noblewoman's perfume case. Dark wood reinforced at the corners with silver-thread metal. The seal on it was old Dawn work. Not decorative. Official. The kind of thing meant to cross controlled borders and be recognized without explanation by the right eyes and only the right eyes.
Even in the low road light, the weight of it was obvious.
Mihos held it in one hand where everyone could see and said, "Inside."
Sekhmet's gaze fixed on it immediately.
No point pretending otherwise.
Mihos went on, he was pleased now that he had recovered a position he liked better.
