Page 31 of Dance in the Stones

Redford’s gargoyle pressed against his skin, drawn to the damaged stone. As he focused, it was as if he could hear the discordance in the stones. Where there should’ve been harmony from the structure, now grated and clashed like a toddler banging on a dozen drum kits all at the same time. He could feel the instability radiating through the structure.

“How bad is it?” Damon asked quietly, clearly picking up on Redford’s distress.

“Really bad.”

Gordon arrived forty minutes later, a stocky man with graying hair and sharp eyes that missed nothing. He spent over an hour examining the tower, taking measurements, photographs, and core samples. Malcolm and his wife left after the first half hour, Malcolm promising to return once he’d actually rested.

Redford and Damon waited in tense silence, watching Gordon work. Damon’s steady presence grounded Redford even as his gargoyle grew increasingly agitated.

Finally, Gordon climbed down from his ladder and approached them, his expression grim.

“Right, I’ll give it to you straight. That tower shouldn’t still be standing.”

Redford’s hands clenched into fists. “Meaning?”

“Meaning the storm didn’t just damage it - it revealed damage that was already there. The foundation has been compromised for years, probably decades. The mortar’s deteriorated beyond repair in several key load-bearing areas. And that crack?” Gordon pointed at the split running down the tower’s face. “That goes all the way through. The tower’s basically held together by luck and ivy roots at this point.”

“Can it be repaired?” Damon asked.

“Theoretically, yes. But we’d be looking at extensive emergency stabilization first – steel supports, reinforcement beams, the works. Then we’d need to essentially rebuild the tower from the inside out. We’re talking hundreds of thousands of pounds and at least a year of work.” Gordon shook his head. “And even then, I can’t guarantee it wouldn’t have issues down the line. The foundation damage is genuinely that bad.”

Redford’s gargoyle howled inside him. The tower, along with the castle, had weathered wars, rebellions, and centuries of Highland storms. And now, on his watch, it might fall.

“What’s the alternative?” Redford already knew the answer, but he had to hear it said.

“I would recommend a controlled demolition. It would need to be taken apart stone by stone, safely, before it falls down on its own.” Gordon’s voice softened. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but structurally speaking, it’s the safest option, and the most cost-effective by far.”

The cost wasn’t the issue, but knowing it could be a danger to others before it was fixed was. After Gordon left with promises to send a detailed report within the hour, Redford stood staring at the tower. The morning sun illuminated every crack, every gap where stones had fallen. His gargoyle pressed insistently against his skin, desperate to touch the tower and to assess the damage for himself.

“You’re devastated.” Damon’s voice was quiet behind him.

“If I had come here sooner, if I’d paid attention when I first inherited this place…”

“Hey.” Damon moved to stand in front of him, forcing Redford to meet his eyes. “You inherited this castle five years ago and only just got here. The damage Gordon described? You heard him, it’s been building for decades. This isn’t your fault.”

“My gargoyle...” Redford struggled to articulate what he was feeling. “Stone is in our nature. We’re meant to protect it and preserve it. And I know this sounds totally weird, but this tower is singing all wrong. It’s in pain.”

“Then let’s look at it properly.” Damon glanced around to confirm they were alone. “Not as humans with human limitations, but as what we are.”

Redford’s gargoyle surged hopefully. “Gordon said it’s unstable. If we go inside…”

“We’ll be careful.” Damon touched his arm. “But you need to see for yourself, and I need to see what you’re seeing.”

The tower entrance was blocked by safety barriers Gordon had put up when he was investigating the site. Damon translocated them past the obstacles, and they stood in the dim interior.

Redford let his gargoyle rise closer to the surface, not quite shifting but allowing his senses to sharpen. Now he was focused on it, the tower’s song grew louder, and he could hear every discordant note, every place where stones had shifted out of alignment or mortar had crumbled away.

“Show me what you’re sensing,” Damon said.

Redford placed his hand against the wall, his senses flowed through the stone, tracing every crack and weakness. “Here. This section of wall…the foundation has settled unevenly. The stones are bearing weight they were never meant to carry.”

He moved deeper into the tower, Damon following close behind. “And here, the mortar’s gone completely. These stones are just...sitting on each other. It’s sheer luck they haven’t fallen before. If I hadn’t been in such a hurry when the storm was coming…”

“There’s no point in worrying what you might have done. Let’s deal with what’s in front of us now.”

They climbed the old spiral staircase, testing each step carefully. On the second level, Redford stopped at the massive crack they’d seen from outside. Up close, it was even worse. He could see clear through to the other side in places.

“This is where the tower’s trying to split apart.” Redford traced the crack with his fingers. “The two sides are pulling in different directions because the foundation’s unstable.”