Day Eight Hundred Seventeen #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Watching the ships in the harbor last night mesmerized me. Their lights traced ever-moving, intricate patterns.

And at the same time they spoke of the affluence and commercial power we saw reflected in our surroundings today.

Quasimo took us through this area of garden-like estates, or palaces (for lack of a better word). We saw no one except at a distance, gardeners at work or servants of some kind.

Quasimo had us stop for a simple meal at one whose owner he knew. The master was away and the servants knew not to refuse him.

All was well until the time of our leaving. One of the servants noticed that Quasimo no longer bore the mark.

We ran.

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