Written in the style of Hatrack River by Orson Scott Card:

Few gust-runners dare touch down in a crowd; certainly not somewhere so public as the Plaza of Aretas, where a single cry of alarm would bring the Aratean Guard clattering swiftly down the plaza, the naked sun shimmering off their silvered armor and gilded blades. But Pneuma didn’t worry about being seen. She’d long ago learned how to gust without attracting attention. Right before landing, she’d whip up a little dust-djinni. People nearby would raise their cloaks to shield their eyes from the sand. By the time they looked again, she would’ve made landfall, safely blending herself among the crowd.