etude in e minor
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Music lessons, once a week. The teacher was a tiny old woman from Tyra (the best there was, her father said), but fierce and unforgiving; unafraid of her student's rank and the power it commanded.
(She is a teacher, her brother shrugged. You cannot teach if you are afraid of your student.)
The room was hot and stuffy, but she dared not ask to open the window. Instead, she laboured at the music stand, the teacher glowering over her shoulder - no, no, you wretched girl! the minor key, not the major! She adjusted her bow and tried again; C sharp, not natural - keep it legato, legato. The violin screeched in protest. The teacher closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Once more, please.
She was a disgrace, the teacher told her father, later. A hopeless case. The boy, perhaps, but the girl –
That night at supper her father announced that she was no longer required to attend music lessons. It hurt to be a disgrace (of course it did), but it didn't matter, she told herself. She was going to be a knight. Knights were strong. They didn't need useless things like music.
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