Hollow Moon Read Online Free Page A

mouth.
    “After today, you are definitely grounded,” she muttered.
She sat up and started pulling leaves from her hair. “Your recharging
privileges have been revoked.”
    The cat looked at her oddly and shifted its electric gaze
to the source of the shadow over her shoulder. Ravana wearily climbed to her
feet and turned to see two Indian men standing at the edge of the courtyard,
both dressed in the dark suits of the palace guard. One was looking
despondently at the stone elephant, which now lay wedged in the hole in the
middle of the ruined paving with its legs in the air. The other pointed a gun
in her direction.
    “I expected a better reception than this,” Ravana said
wearily. “After all, it’s not every day someone gets to save the world with an
elephant.”
     
* * *
     
    The guards took Ravana through the palace grounds to the
guard house, a squat and utilitarian building attached to the palace itself by
a short open-sided veranda. There they led her into a small, sparsely-furnished
room and stood silently over her for what seemed an age. When she tried to tell
the guards what she had witnessed in the grounds she was steadfastly ignored,
though was given a bowl of perfumed water and a soft towel to wash the mud from
her hands and face.
    The open door at the far end of the veranda offered a
tantalising glimpse of the elaborate yet old-fashioned decor of the palace,
which in Ravana’s eyes was well suited to a household under the rule of a woman
who used the archaic Indian title of Maharani. No one knew much about the
palace’s reclusive inhabitants. It was rumoured that the Maharani’s staff were
forbidden to speak of the outside world or mix with the other residents of the Dandridge
Cole . The only thing Ravana knew for
certain was that the Maharani and the rest of the royal household were fellow
exiles from the Epsilon Eridani system who had come to the hollow moon around
the same time as Ravana and her father, back when Ravana herself had been just
seven years old.
    Finally, a third man entered. He was tall and
pale-skinned, with dark hair and a neatly-trimmed goatee beard. He wore a smart
uniform in green with gold piping and by the way the first two guards silently
deferred to him Ravana guessed he was their superior. Initially ignoring her,
the newcomer placed the small flat case and the antique paper-leafed book he
carried upon a desk by the window and only then turned to greet Ravana.
    “My name is Fenris,” he said, by way of an introduction.
He spoke perfect English, with an accent suggesting he was of Terran Eastern
European origin. His brusque manner was that of someone who was clearly not
having a good day. “I am the Maharani’s chief of staff and head of security
here at the palace.”
    “My name is Ravana,” she said hesitantly. “Is this
about…?”
    “Ravana,” mused Fenris, interrupting. “An unusual name, I
must say. The Maharani does not take kindly to trespassers,” he said sternly,
side-stepping her unfinished question. “Yet we mean you no harm. I trust my men
have not mistreated you.”
    Ravana saw he was looking at the scar on her face and
turned away, discomforted yet also puzzled by how calm he seemed considering
what had just happened. Fenris saw her unease and beckoned to her to take a
seat by the desk, then dismissed the guards.
    He sat down in the chair opposite. She watched his hand
momentarily go to the book, a grey leather-bound volume inscribed with the word Isa-Sastra , as if seeking reassurance.
Reaching for his case, he opened the lid and turned it slightly to hide its
contents from Ravana’s sight. Nevertheless, she caught a glimpse of what looked
like a small holovid screen and at the top of the lid there was a small hole,
now facing towards her, which she suspected was a camera lens.
    “The guards are good men but not great at conversation,”
he said. Ravana smiled nervously, then thought better of it when she saw that
Fenris’ own expression