"...with this Eggs, a fisherman from Cutthroat Island. He watched the ships sailing far, far away"... Master Physalis began his story. Hearing that the old man had started from afar, Count became gloomy. For what had he been riding in creaky wagons through the bumps of Samreignia? For what had he staked his precious face in arguments with the dockers? To spend hours listening to a tedious lecture? Parabalsamico had had enough lectures at the University, and for the most time, he had been napping at them. The old man talked nonsense about the horizon and masts, as proof that the world was round.
A miracle with the face of a pretty maiden saved Count from boring hypotheses. She walked out of the Sea Serpent, carrying a tray, on which was arranged a sterlet baked with truffles. There also were pickles and potatoes under aromatic garlic butter, sprinkled with herbs. The maiden set two goblets of the finest wine from the southern Samreignian slopes before the guests. Master Physalis pounced on the sterlet. Parabalsamiсo took a moment to steer the sluggish ship of discussion on the course he desperately wished.
"Master Physalis, this Eggs of yours certainly deserves to be remembered, but..."
"To Eggs!" Physalis exclaimed mournfully, "The best captain I ever sailed with," "Damn you!" cursed Count to himself. He supported the toast, though, and sipped from his goblet in grave silence.
"Master Physalis, the fact that they've deprived you of your professorial title is a colossal disgrace to the entire scientific community! Mark my word, I will use all my influence to restore your reputation. I will personally cross the Halimatian Sea and get the proof of the truth you've brought back then. But before that, I need to know what awaits me on my journey, and what reward can I promise to the brave men who will set off by my side."
"Great dangers lurk in the depths of the sea..." - Physalis, again, started from afar. "Bloodthirsty sharks, giant octopuses, scary hogfishes..." "Damn you!" thought Parabalsamico once again.
"Master Physalis, sailors like you and I could use some specifics," Count interrupted the lecture on zoology.
"Young man, who knows what you'll come across. I got seasick one night, and I went aft and leaned over the side, and there was black on black, a shadow of terrifying proportions..." "Well, yes, a shadow at night. The old man must have had a lot of seasickness medicine," Count said to himself.
"Master Physalis," he interrupted the old man again, counting on the inebriated Master wouldn't notice his impoliteness. "Let us set aside the inhabitants of the seas and move ourselves to the land. It's essential for naturalists like you and I to learn about animals. I wonder if there are any elephants with long tusks or unicorns with branching horns on the land you've discovered."
"Tusks and horns? I'm afraid not." - the old man talked slowly. "But there are enormous beasts there! Rest assured they will trample you once you lose your vigilance. And there are preys with wings thi-i-i-is big," said Physalis, spreading his arms wide as if he wanted to embrace the world. Only Count's reflexes saved the old man's goblet from being knocked off the table.
"Ah, butterflies!" - the master exclaimed dreamily, "Young man, what beautiful black butterflies there are... Their black color allows them to be invisible near the volcanic soil so that birds..." "Volcanic soil!" - Count was struck by a memory from a university lecture.
"Tell me, Master Physalis, don't cinnamon, chocolate beans, or coffee trees grow on that mineral-rich soil? As botanists by learning, I am extremely curious if these rare plants exist anywhere else but in the Gorgoth Empire..."
The old man drained the goblet.
"It is a dead and wicked land, young man," he said pathetically, "The people there live wild. They survive in harsh conditions, fighting death every day. And if they lose, they become undead. Here you are!" With these words, Master Physalis laid out a map on the table. "I have marked everything. The habitats of the beasts, the main settlements, and the places where no living soul should ever step."
Master Physalis's head fell on the table.
Count finished his wine and looked closely at the map in the light of the torches burning in the inner yard. "Just to paint over all the excess details, and to draw the necessary ones," he decided. Then he put the map in his inner pocket, took off the cloak from the snoring Physalis, and wore it himself. Count was about to leave, naturally without paying, when pity for the old man stopped him from acting low.
Parabalsamico went inside the tavern and proceeded through the refectory to the innkeeper, who was standing behind the counter and wiping a mug with a towel.
"Look here, my dear fellow," Parabalsamico said to the innkeeper, "My father is nestled outside. Would you be so kind to take him to his room, and in the morning he'll pay you everything to the last..."
"I be damned if it is not my favorite alchemist!" - Parabalsamico recognized the voice that echoed from a dark corner of the room. He had been hiding from Inverland spies for the past five months and had especially avoided meeting their head. Until now.
"Whsoo? Ou've got me mishtaken with shomebordy!" - Count mimicked a Gorgothian accent, taking advantage of the fact that Spy was now sitting at a distance. But before he could figure out which card to play next, someone sneaked up on Parabalsamico from behind, put a bag over his head, and stunned him with a painful blow...