Take it off.” He sipped his mead, his dark brown eyes staring at me. “Yes, sir.” With shaky fingers, I pulled off my hat and untied my apron, f...lding them carefully. “What would you like me to do with them, sir?” He shrugged. “You can put it with my dirty laundry.” Master Simon sipped his mead again and ate some more fruit. His dirty laundry? But… then the laundresses might talk! I smoothed my skirt. “Sir?” “Yes, Claire?” I hesitated. I shouldn’t question Master Simon. “N... never mind,. Music is leveling. You can't fake it. You can't cheat and copy somebody's work. You're standing or sitting there, you, your instrument, a sheet of music, and you perform. Everybody knows whether you're good or less than good. For somebody with a bit of talent and a bit of desire to do well, it is a refuge. My refuge.When I felt like I was an outsider or I was uncomfortable at school, entering the music room was instant relief. Part of it was that I wasn't the only one who saw orchestra as a. More

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