Safest is down the right side of the valley. Safest and slowest. It’s not hard to see that the other routes will get you to the finish line more directly. The fastest route stands out as well.

Gods, that is treacherous.

It splits from the main valley after the first day of riding. A canyon route through riverways that eventually lead underground. Cave riding. You’ve never enjoyed it. Your phoenix can handle the dark, but you’ve personally never taken to it. You suppose a dollop of Sunscape could give your phoenix’s coat a solid glow? That’d make the caves more navigable, but no less dangerous. You file the route away in a back pocket. It’s not your first choice, and you can only hope the other riders don’t take advantage of your hesitation. Anyone who actually makes it through the cave will have a sizable advantage on the field. It cuts through a plateau everyone else will be forced to ride around.

The most predictable route is harder to find. You retrace your steps a dozen times and finally determine the way your competitors are likely to go. The path cuts west after the first few river crossings. Forests drape that edge of the map and you like what you’re seeing there. A winding route, but faster than the eastern passes and your horse’s favorite style of riding.

A glance shows five clockturns have already passed.

You retrace each of the three routes, memorizing them. When you’re certain you have every obstacle firmly in mind, you begin Mother’s final, suggested task:

The designers will always hide one thing in plain sight. Every map is meant to draw your eye to something so that their clever trick stays well hidden from the casual observer. Find it and you’ll have an advantage that no one else has.

You’re combing back through the details when movement on your right pulls your attention. Adrian Ford is bowing before the officials. They look down on him with hooded eyes.

“Thank you,” the Longhand says, louder than necessary. “I’ve seen all I need to see.”

He gives another bow and starts walking back through the Hall of Maps. As he passes you, he glances over and winks. The act has you gritting your teeth. How could someone be so arrogant? You know it’s probably just a power move. He wants you to think he’s figured out something important, and far faster than the rest. The display digs under your skin.

Taking a breath, you return your attention to the map.

Four clockturns remain.

All right, you think, to what did the designers hope to draw our eye?