on.” Sheriam's tone would not put up with any more distractions. “Come.”
With a last glance at her clothes and the hidden papers, Egwene followed her toward the arches. The stone felt like ice under her bare feet.
“Whom do you bring with you, Sister?” Elaida intoned.
Continuing her measured pace, Sheriam replied, “One who comes as a candidate for Acceptance, Sister.” The three Aes Sedai around the ter'angreal did not move.
“Is she ready?”
“She is ready to leave behind what she was, and, passing through her fears, gain Acceptance.”
“Does she know her fears?”
“She has never faced them, but now is willing.”
“Then let her face what she fears.” Even in its formality, there was a note of satisfaction in Elaida's voice.
“The first time,” Sheriam said, “is for what was. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.”
Egwene took a deep breath and stepped forward, through the arch and into the glow. Light swallowed her whole.
“Jaim Dawtry dropped by. There's odd news down from Baerlon with the peddler.”
Egwene raised her head from the cradle she was rocking. Rand was standing in the doorway. For an instant her head spun. She looked from Rand — my husband — to the child in the cradle — my daughter — and back again, in wonder.
The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.
It was not her own thought, but a disembodied voice that could have been inside her head or out, male or female, yet emotionless and unknowable. Somehow, it did not seem strange to her.
The moment of wonder passed, and the only thing to wonder about was why she had thought anything seemed out of round. Of course Rand was her husband — her handsome, loving husband — and Joiya was her daughter — the most beautiful, sweetest little girl in the Two Rivers. Tam, Rand's father, was out with the sheep, supposedly so Rand could work on the barn but really so he could have more time to play with Joiya. This afternoon Egwene's mother and father would come out from the village. And probably Nynaeve, to see if motherhood was interfering with Egwene's studies to replace Nynaeve as Wisdom one day.
“What kind of news?” she asked. She took up rocking the cradle again, and Rand came over to grin down at the tiny child wrapped in swaddling cloches. Egwene laughed softly to herself. He was so taken with his daughter that he did not hear what people said to him half the time. “Rand? What kind of news? Rand?”
“What?” His grin faded. “Strange news. War. There's some big war, taking up most of the world, so Jaim claims.” That was strange news; word of wars seldom reached the Two Rivers till the wars were long done. “He says everybody is fighting some folk called the Shawkin, or the Sanchan, or something like that. I never heard of them.”
Egwene knew — she thought she knew — Whatever it was, was gone.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “It's nothing to upset us here, my heart. Wars never touch the Two Rivers. We are too far from everywhere for anyone to care.”
“I'm not upset. Did Jaim say anything else?”
“Nothing you can believe. He sounded like a Coplin. He said the peddler told him these people use Aes Sedai in battle, but then he claimed they offer a thousand gold marks to anyone who turns an Aes Sedai over to them. And they kill anybody who hides one. It makes no sense. Well, it's nothing to trouble us. It is all a long way from here.”
Aes Sedai. Egwene touched her head. The way back comes but once. Be steadfast.
She noticed Rand had a hand to his own head. “The headaches?” she asked.
He nodded, his eyes suddenly tight. “That powder Nynaeve gave me doesn't seem to be working the last few days.”
She hesitated. These headaches of his worried her. They grew worse every time they came, now. And worst of all was something she had not noticed at first, something she almost wished she never had noticed. When Rand's head hurt, strange things happened soon after. Lightning out of a clear sky, smashing to bits that huge oak stump he had been working two days to root out where he and Tam were clearing new field. Storms that Nynaeve did not hear coming when she listened to the wind. Wildfires in the forest. And the deeper his pain grew, the worse what followed. No one else had connected these things to Rand, not even Nynaeve, and Egwene was grateful