“No doubt they thought it was understood to such a degree that there was no need to state it. Logically, however, a law means what it says, whatever the framers thought they meant.”

“Laws seldom have much concern with logic,” Beonin said acidly. “In this case, however,” she conceded after a moment, “you are quite correct.” To Egwene, she added, “And the Hall, they see it so also.”

They were all serious, even Anaiya, when she said, “You will be Aes Sedai, child, just as soon as you are raised Amyrlin Seat. That is the long and short of it.” Even Siuan, despite that tiny smile. It was a smile.

“You can take the Three Oaths as soon as we are back in the Tower,” Sheriam told her. “We considered having you speak them anyway, but without the Oath Rod, it might be taken for a sham. Best to wait.”

Egwene almost sat down again before catching herself. Maybe the Wise Ones had been right; maybe traveling through Tel’aran’rhiod in the flesh had done something to her mind. “This, is madness,” she protested. “I can’t be Amyrlin. I’m . . . I’m. . . .” Objections piled up on her tongue in a tangle that let nothing out. She was too young; Siuan herself had been the youngest Amyrlin ever, and she was thirty when raised. She had barely begun her training, no matter what she knew about the World of Dreams; Amyrlins were knowledgeable and experienced. And wise; they were certainly supposed to be wise. All she felt was confounded and muddled. Most women spent ten years as a novice and ten as Accepted. True, some moved faster, even much faster. Siuan had. But she herself had been a novice less than a year, and Accepted an even shorter time. “It’s impossible!” was the best she could manage finally.

Morvrin’s snort reminded her of Sorilea. “Settle yourself down, child, or I’ll see to it myself. This is no time for you to grow fluttery, or start fainting on us.”

“But I wouldn’t know what to do! Not the first thing!” Egwene drew a deep breath. It did not really calm her racing heart, but it helped. A little. Aiel heart. Whatever they did, she would not let them bully her. Eyeing Morvrin’s bluff, hard face, she added, She can skin me, but she can’t bully me. “This is ridiculous is what it is. I won’t paint myself for a fool in front of everybody, and that is what I’d be doing. If this is why the Hall summoned me, I’ll tell them no.”

“I fear that is not an option,” Anaiya sighed, smoothing her robe, a surprisingly frilly thing in rose silk, with delicate ivory lace bordering every edge. “You cannot refuse a summons to become Amyrlin any more than you could a summons for trial. The words of the summons are even the same.” That was heartening; oh, yes, it was.

“The choice is the Hall’s now.” Myrelle sounded a touch sad, which did nothing for Egwene’s spirits.

Suddenly smiling, Sheriam put an arm around Egwene’s shoulders. “Do not worry, child. We will help you, and guide you. That is why we are here.”

Egwene said nothing. She could think of nothing to say; maybe obeying the law was not being bullied, but it felt much the same. They took silence for assent, and she supposed it was. Without delay, Siuan was sent off, grumbling at being handed the task, to wake the Sitters personally and let them know Egwene had arrived.

The house became a whirlwind before Siuan made it out the door. Egwene’s riding dress came in for considerable discussion—none of which she was part of—and a plump serving woman was roused from her nap in a chair in a back room and sent off, with dire warnings if she breathed a word, to fetch every Accepted’s dress she could find that might come close to fitting Egwene. She tried on eight, right there in the front room, before finding one that did fit, after a fashion. It was too tight in the bosom, but thankfully loose in the hips. All the time the serving woman was bringing in dresses and Egwene was trying them on, Sheriam and the others took turns running out to dress themselves, and in between lectured her on what was going to happen, what she had to do and say.

They made her repeat everything back. The Wise Ones thought saying something once was sufficient, and woe to the apprentice who failed to listen and hear. Egwene remembered some of what she had to say from a novice lecture in the Tower, and she got it word perfect the first time, but the Aes Sedai went over everything again and again, and then again. Egwene could not understand. With anyone else but Aes Sedai, she would have said they were nervous, calm faces or no. She began to wonder whether she was making some mistake, and started emphasizing different words.

“Say them as you are told,” Carlinya snapped like a cracking icicle, and Myrelle, sounding hardly less cold, said, “You cannot afford a mistake, child. Not one!”

They put her through it five more times, and when she protested that she had given back every word correctly, listed who would stand where and who would say what just the way they had told her, she thought Morvrin might box her ears if Beonin or Carlinya did not first. In the event, their frowns were as hard as slaps, and Sheriam looked at her as if she were a novice being sulky. Egwene sighed and began yet again. “I enter with three of you escorting me. . . .”

It was a silent procession that made its way through the nearly empty, moon-shadowed streets. Few of the scattered people still out so much as glanced at them; six Aes Sedai with one lone Accepted in their midst might or might not be a common sight here, but apparently it was not odd enough to occasion comment. Windows that had been lit were dark now; quiet lay on the town so their footsteps sounded distinctly on the hard dirt. Egwene fingered the Great Serpent ring, firmly back in place on her left hand. Her knees were trembling. She had been prepared to face anything, but her list of “anything” had never included this.

In front of a rectangular three-story stone building, they stopped. The windows were all dark, but by moonlight it had the look of an inn. Carlinya, Beonin and Anaiya were to remain here, and the first two at least were not much pleased; they made no complaint, as they had not back at the house, but they adjusted their skirts unnecessarily and held their heads stiffly erect, not looking at Egwene.

Anaiya stroked Egwene’s hair soothingly. “It will go well, child.” She carried a bundle under her arm, the dress Egwene would put on after everything was over. “You are a quick study.”

Inside the stone building a gong sounded deeply, once, twice, a third time. Egwene very nearly jumped. Silence for the space of a heartbeat; then the gong repeated its brazen song. Myrelle smoothed her dress unconsciously. Once more silence, fo