From GOD'S WAR:
Gas lamps meant they were in Mushtallah or Amtullah, one of the major cities in the heart of Nasheen. If that was true, it meant Nyx had been out a long time—and she was in a lot of trouble. Behind Fatima was a long, thin window that looked down onto a street the color of foam. Extravagant figures cloaked in peach and crimson milled past the smoky glass like burned jewel bugs. Nyx no longer wondered if she was still half asleep. Her dreams were never so colorful. ...
During the day, Amtullah was a raucous mass of humanity, full of half-breeds and chained cats and corrupt order keepers and organ hawkers and gene pirates. He had trouble following the accented Nasheenian of the interior, and the fees for everything—from food and lodging to transit—were far higher than he’d anticipated. At night, the sky above Amtullah lit up with the occasional violet or green burst, remnants of a border barrage that managed to get through the anti-burst guns. The sound of sirens sent him to bed most nights, as regular as evening prayer.
As they approached in the darkness, Amtullah rose up from the hilly white plain like a thorny, blackened crown capped in a giant soap bubble that wavered and shimmered in the ruddy light of the moons. ... Inside the filter, the streets of Amtullah were paved in smooth, colored stones. It was quiet. Nyx had expected a young, drunk crowd of arty types or spoiled kids, but aside from the occasional creeper or order keeper patrol, there was nothing.