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innovative project. During the summer she employed seasonal help but here, in the dead of winter, only the hardcores kept at it. She’d reserved today to be at the construction site, starting with this extraction. Three of the four curtain walls were nearly complete and the stone just acquired would go a long way toward finishing the fourth.
    She heard a crack.
    Followed by another.
    Not unusual since they’d affected the cliff’s integrity.
    She turned back toward the rock face. Another series of snaps and pops from above drew her attention.
    “Get everybody away,” she screamed to the workers below. “Now. Go.”
    She waved her arms signaling for them to flee the scaffolding. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but caution seemed the right course. The breaks came louder and quicker, like rounds from a distant automatic weapon, a sound she knew all too well. She needed to go and turned for the far side of the platform where it was easier to climb down. But a limestone chuck split from the cliff face and crashed into the top-level planks. The wooden scaffolding pulsated beneath her feet. There was nothing for her to hold on to and balancing was tricky, so she dropped to the cold wood and clung to the edges until the rocking subsided. The tower holding her aloft seemed to have survived the assault, its rope bindings able to give and take. Voices from below asked if she was all right.
    She came to her knees and glanced over the side. “I’m okay.”
    She stood and shook off the dirt and dust.
    “We’re going to need to examine the scaffolding,” she yelled down. “That was a hard hit.”
    A new pop drew her attention.
    She glanced up and knew what was happening. Rock from above where they’d just extracted was freeing itself along a sedimentary layer, gravity now becoming their enemy and exploiting every weak point. For all its seeming invincibility stone could be as finicky as wood.
    Two cracking explosions shook the rock wall.
    Dust and scree rained down from overhead and fouled the air. Another boulder-sized piece fell and just missed the scaffolding. She could not flee ahead, as that would lead her directly into the problem. So she turned and rushed toward the other end of the platform. Behind her, more limestone found the planks and obliterated part of the supports.
    She saw that all of the workers had fled out of harm’s way.
    Only she remained.
    Another huge piece slammed into the exposed wooden beams. In an instant she’d have nothing to stand on. She glanced down and spotted the hay cart, still in place, ten meters below. The pile looked sufficient but there was no way to know for sure.
    Unfortunately, she had no choice.
    She leaped out, headfirst, and flipped over midair so that her spine led the way. If she’d calculated correctly the hay should be right beneath her. She heard the wooden tower collapse from the rocky onslaught. She closed her eyes and waited. A second later she found the hay, which cushioned her impact and brought her to an abrupt stop. She opened her eyes, lying faceup, and listened to the crescendo of rock and wood finding the ground.
    She stood and surveyed the destruction.
    Clouds of dust rolled skyward.
    Her employees rushed over and asked if she was hurt. She shook her head and made sure again that all of them were all right.
    “Looks like we have a mess to clean up,” she said.
    She rolled out of the cart, her nerves rattled, but accidents happen, especially on a project of this magnitude. Thankfully, to date, none of the on-site injuries had been substantial.
    She held a degree in medieval architecture from l’École pratique des hautes études in Paris, her master’s thesis on Pierre de Montreuil, the 13th-century proponent of Gothic style. She’d taken nearly a year to design her castle and hoped to be around when it was finished. She was not yet forty, so age wasn’t the problem. It was the risks she sometimes took, and not just the ones that came from falling rock.