Egwene hesitated only a moment before kneeling. What happened?

The Amyrlin emptied the chalice slowly over Egwene’s head. “You are washed clean of Egwene al’Vere from Emond’s Field. You are washed clean of all ties that bind you to the world. You come to us washed clean, in heart and soul. You are Egwene al’Vere, Accepted of the White Tower.” The last drop splashed onto Egwene’s hair. “You are sealed to us, now.”

The last words seemed to have a special meaning, just between Egwene and the Amyrlin. The Amyrlin thrust the chalice at one of the other Aes Sedai and produced a gold ring in the shape of a serpent biting its own tail. Despite herself, Egwene trembled as she raised her left hand, trembled again as the Amyrlin slipped the Great Serpent ring onto the third finger. When she became Aes Sedai, she could wear the ring on the finger she chose, or not at all if it was necessary to hide who she was, but the Accepted wore it there.

Unsmiling, the Amyrlin pulled her to her feet. “Welcome, Daughter,” she said, kissing her cheek. Egwene was surprised to feel a thrill. Not child, but daughter. Always before she had been child. The Amyrlin kissed her other cheek. “Welcome.”

Stepping back, the Amyrlin regarded her critically, but spoke to Sheriam. “Get her dry and into some clothes, then be certain she is well. Certain, you understand.”

“I am certain, Mother.” Sheriam sounded surprised. “You saw me delve her.”

The Amyrlin grunted, and her eyes shifted to the ter’angreal. “I mean to know what went wrong tonight.” She strode away in the direction of her glare, skirts swaying purposefully. Most of the other Aes Sedai joined her around the ter’angreal, now only a silver structure of arches on a ring.

“The Mother is worried about you,” Sheriam said as she drew Egwene to one side, to where there was a thick towel for her hair, and another for the rest of her.

“How much reason did she have?” Egwene asked. The Amyrlin wants nothing to happen to her hound till the deer is pulled down.

Sheriam did not answer. She merely frowned slightly, then waited until Egwene was dry before handing her a white dress banded at the bottom with seven rings.

She slipped into that dress with a flash of disappointment. She was one of the Accepted, with the ring on her finger and the bands on her dress. Why don’t I feel any different?

Elaida came over, her arms filled with Egwene’s novice dress and shoes, her belt and pouch. And the papers Verin had given her. In Elaida’s hands.