He knew better than anyone that hunting a killer was aggravating work, but that did not ease the aggravation. Killers, thieves, robbers—he had unintentionally made a career of tracking down brigands of all sorts, ever since leaving the mountain monastery he had called home for many years. Being some manner of unofficial investigator of all things criminal was better than immersing himself in politics or the other dry amusements of his peers. Nodding absently to the people he passed, greeting others but never slowing his steps, Lazzaro steadily made his way across the colorful mosaic of the pavilion of the Starfire Palace. Climbing the steps, he murmured politely to the royal guards as he passed them. Inside, he stopped a passing steward. "Where is Prince Benito?" "I believe he is in the garden with her Highness and several friends, your grace." "Thank you," Lazzaro replied, and strode on. In the garden—a cacophony of carefully tended plants and flowers that overlooked the ocean surrounding their country on nearly all sides—he quickly located Benito on the highest level.
