"For food, or something else?"

"Food for body and soul."

Maskull bit into the root. It was white and hard; its white sap was
bleeding. It had no taste, but after eating it, he experienced a
change of perception. The landscape, without alteration of light or
outline, became several degrees more stern and sacred. When he
looked at Corpang he was impressed by his aspect of Gothic awfulness,
but the perplexed expression was still in his eyes.

"Do you spend all your time here, Corpang?"

"Occasionally I go above, but not often."

"What fastens you to this gloomy world?"

"The search for Thire."

"Then it's still a search?"

"Let us walk on."

As they resumed their journey across the dim, gradually rising plain,
the conversation became even more earnest in character than before.
"Although I was not born here," proceeded Corpang, "I've lived here
for twenty-five years, and during all that time I have been drawing
nearer to Thire, as I hope. But there is this peculiarity about it--
the first stages are richer in fruit and more promising than the
later ones. The longer a man seeks Thire, the more he seems to