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Menicius, on Quarrel, was moving farther ahead each circuit. - (Assassin of Gor, Chapter 22, Sentence #458)

I doubt that he was consciously reasoning these matters, but his apprehension, almost instinctual, based on watching me race, and on his years of experience, had led him to suspect even my pattern alterations. I knew Mip had had something of this rare gift and did not suppose that others, skilled, veteran riders, would be completely without it. I began to regret that I had so willingly surrendered the lead at the beginning of the race. Menicius, on Quarrel, was moving farther ahead each circuit. I then recalled a conversation with Mip about such matters, the memory rushing through my consciousness like the flash of a metal bolt. "What if your opponent, through luck or skill, senses your pattern, your every variation?" I had asked, more for amusement than anything else. At the tavern of the Greens, he had put down his goblet of paga, and had laughed, spreading out his hands, "Then," had said he, "you must have no pattern". - (Assassin of Gor)