But suddenly Jonas had noticed, following the path of the apple through the air with his eyes, that the piece of fruit had--well, this was the part that he couldn't adequately understand--the apple had changed. Just for an instant. It had changed in mid-air, he remembered. Then it was in his hand, and he looked at it carefully, but it was the same apple. Unchanged. The same size and shape: a perfect sphere. The same nondescript shade, about the same shade as his own tunic. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about that apple. He had tossed it back and forth between his hands a few times, then thrown it again to Asher. And again--in the air, for an instant only--it had changed.