Yancy was the only name she used, and whenever a scruffier sort of wizard came to the commune looking for help, more often than not they said she’d sent them, with her respects. Once, I’d asked why, and Mum told me she’d helped her resolve a corruption of perception that had lodged itself too deep into her imagination. If that doesn’t tell you much, just avoid consuming too many alchemical substances in unreal spaces and it won’t happen to you. 

I was seeing whispers and wind chimes — not solid wind chimes dangling, which would have been all right; I was seeing the sound of wind chimes, and don’t ask me to describe it. 

All of magic essentially involves sneaking something you want past reality while it’s distracted and looking the other way.