Aituatea shifted the bend in his legs to ease his aching hip, careful as he moved to keep the bales piled under him from squeaking, the bales of raw unwashed fleeces that were a stench in his nostrils but sheltered him from noses and teeth of the patrollers' rathounds. (Drinker of Souls)

Broad and yellow and heavy with the silt it carried, late summer low in its banks, the river Wansheeri slipped noiselessly past the scattered mountains of the Uplands, driving to the Plans and the vast city that guarded its mouth, Jade Halimm. (Blue Magic)

She was born in the mountain valley called Arth Slya, her father a potter of genius, her mother a weaver of tapestries. (A Gathering of Stones)