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thinking of trading this.
A petite offshoot of the central vortex protruded horizontally from its parent s flank. Clasped unsteadily
within this gyrating pseudopod was a cracked but still intact ceramic bathtub. Buncan was relieved to see
that it was unoccupied.
Collected this on the other side of the world not three months ago. Beautiful, isn t it? There was
unmistakable pride in the whirlwind s voice. The airy pseudopod con-toned, the bathtub rotating along
with it.
See, the white finish covers both sides.
Very pretty. Buncan made sure he had a firm grip on his precious duar. It was still too early to panic.
Thus far they d only been threatened verbally.
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Even a short stint as ornaments would hinder us in our own search, Gragelouth pointed out.
Don t intelligent people have a say in whether they re collected or not? Viz stayed hunkered down
behind his little shield. Even a casual gust of wind could sweep him helplessly to his doom.
That s a question of ethics, the whirlwind replied unhesitatingly. As a force of nature, I m not required
to have any. And by the way, our existence isn t an easy one, you know. Life isn t all open fields and
low-pressure centers. Maintaining one s appearance and posture in calm air is a real straggle. You don t
know what s it like to be tightly wound all the time. Collecting helps us to relax.
Being a found object s not so bad. We take care to sweep up food and water for the ones that are
alive, and you get to do a lot of free traveling.
Excuse me if I decline the onor, said Squill. I never ad me eart set on pukin me way around the
world.
Why haven t you taken the opportunity to suck us up while those two are fighting? Battling the wind,
Buncan clung with one hand to Snaugenhutt s heavy armor.
The vortex skittered backward, unintentionally pelting them with sand. I m not into living creatures,
myself. Too much work to keep them alive. I prefer inanimate objects. But you might as well resign
yourselves. Once those two have settled things between them you re going to be collected, voluntarily or
otherwise.
We cannot allow that. Gragelouth was insistent in spite of their situation. We seek the Grand
Veritable.
The whirlwind spun a little tighter and its voice rose. I ve heard of that. There s nothing to it. No reality.
It s a story, a rumor. Nothing more than a tale with which to amuse a fresh breeze.
That is what we seek to determine. Not to minimize the honor of being deemed collectible, but we
really cannot spare the time.
Good luck convincing them of that. Reabsorbing its esteemed bathtub, their drafty interlocutor
retreated.
Another maelstrom took its place, rotating proudly. Want to see what I ve collected?
I don t think so, replied Buncan slowly.
Ah, c mon. It spun very near. See?
A spiraling torus was thrust toward them. Buncan flinched but held his ground.
An old woman hovered within the blustery extrusion. She was clad entirely in black. Long, stringy hair
hung from beneath her pointed black hat, and her narrow, pinched face was dominated by a huge
hooked nose at the end of which reposed a hairy wart of unsurpassed ugliness. The folds of her skirt
billowed around the broomstick she straddled.
Lemme guess, said Neena. You do collect intelligent creatures.
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The cyclone hummed. You got it.
Hey, you! The old woman shouted toward them. Can you get me out of this? I m late for a whole
batch of appointments.
Sorry, madame, replied Gragelouth politely. We are preoccupied with troubles of our own.
Yeah, well, I ve heard that before. It s just that I ve been stuck inside this damn thing for longer than I
care to think. Sort of flying in place, if you get my drift.
Ow d you appen to get trapped in there? Neena studied the old woman with interest.
Didn t get trapped, young water rat. Got collected. Last thing I know I was heading south past Topeka
air control, minding my own business, and the next I m swept up in this thickheaded hunk of air. She
shook her head in disgust. That s what I get for evesdropping on cockpit conversations instead of
paying attention to the regular FAA weather updates.
Buncan didn t quite know how to respond. Uh, how are you doing in there?
Well, the food ain t too bad, and the view s interesting. Could be worse, I reckon. I expect I ll get out
of here soon enough. Then she ll get it! The torus retracted into the body of the whirlwind.
Who ll get it? Neena wanted to know. But with a hideous cackle, the old woman disappeared
skyward.
You never know where you re going to find things when you travel between worlds, the storm
informed mem.
Whirlwinds can travel between worlds? Buncan asked.
With ease. Molecular diffusion beats jogging any day. The aether s more permeable than most people
think. You just have to pick your spots.
Sounds like rot squared to me. Squill scratched his forehead.
A bulge in the whirlwind s side provided them with a temporary view of a small elephant with
extraordinarily large ears. You wouldn t believe where I picked this up, the storm told them. Before
they could take a closer look, the airborne pachyderm vanished into the dark depths.
The vortex which had first approached them interrupted the display. Looks like those two have finally
got their coriolis forces aligned. Leaving distinctive tracks in the sand, the garrulous pair retreated.
Their place was taken by the two wailing storms which had been battling over right of perception: the
large, charcoal-gray, intimidating spiral and its smaller but equally pugnacious counterpart. They roared
and bellowed within a handsbreadth of each other as they confronted the travelers.
The smaller inclined its crown toward them. We ve reached a settlement.
We have, boomed the other as flying rocks crashed against one another within its flanks.
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Look here. Gragelouth adjusted his attire. We have some conclusions of our own.
Silence! A blast of wind sent the sloth stumbling. Buncan and Squill caught him under his furry arms.
Collectibles should be seen and not heard. Besides, we re not going to hurt you. Physical damage would
reduce your display value.
For some reason this revelation did not make Buncan feel especially grateful.
We ve decided to divide you among us. I get the large armored quadruped and its small flying
companion. The rest of you will go with C s . The smaller whirlwind advanced slightly.
You re not splitting us up. Buncan draped a possessive arm loosely over Snaugenhutt s neck.
You have nothing to say about it, growled the larger storm. Behind it, the assembled cyclonic forces
murmured their approval. They completely filled the canyon, obscuring the sheer stone walls and the sky
beyond. Amidst these howling and bellowing gales the cluster of boulders held by Buncan and his friends
was an island of calm.
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