The Amyrlin Seat, Egwene knows-even now-is not one child. It is an ancient duty, the first servant of a tower that has endured for hundreds of years. Just as it brought her to serve the Hall of the Tower, so too will it bind together the women who take their places there in the years and centuries to come.
There is Lumaise din Tilme Bright Lake, born on the water and raised to the Gray Ajah, an Atha'an Miere who spent her youth travelling between the nations and her adulthood being vigilant for peace between them. Among her many tattoos-a soaring hawk, a thunderbolt, a vase-there is now a white teardrop, shining bright on her dark skin. When she dies in Tar Valon, it is on land, the Jendai Prophecies binding her no longer to the water.
There is Megat of the Salt Flat Sept of the Nakai Aiel, of the Red Ajah. She is the fastest to pass the raising tests in decades. "Why should I care for worlds that are not and be distracted by people who are not? These tasks bring me no honor." Her Warder and husband, Jodain of the Black Rock Shaarad, was once an honored guardsman; now, he teaches Younglings the art of fighting with spears. Megat sees them learn quickly, without needing to stand around and hesitate over the names of forms. They earn much ji.
And there is Rekath Lerram, a great Healer of the Yellow Ajah. She is a slow speaker, waiting for the Hall to come to consensus before taking action. Rekath knows how to adapt many weaves for humans into more effective forms for animals, when to mix in threads of Air to relieve a horse's fatigue, or how to calm a nervous sheep from running around. But her favorite weaves are those that will help guide a raken, like those of her Seanchan homeland.
It is Egwene who has laid the bonds between these peoples and the Tower. So when the Amyrlins of years and Ages to come remember Lumaise's sprays of Water, Megat's forces of Earth, Rekath's shades of Air, so too do they remember the Flame of Tar Valon, and the fire of Egwene al'Vere, who dreams still.