Every river town in Nine Rivers has an inn, and every inn has a storyteller. Sit down, order tea, and he tells you a story. Some are old legends. Some are lies. A few are about things that happened last week, two towns over.
Those are the ones that matter. Each rumour adds an entry to your ledger, and if you follow it you find a side tale: a feud between two sword families, a monk who stole a recipe, a ghost on a ferry who just wants someone to pay her fare.
Writing at night
I write these between eleven and one, after my day job and after the code for the evening is done. Tired writing turns out to be good for rumours. They should sound a little exaggerated, a little half-remembered. I write each tale twice: once as the storyteller tells it, and once as it really happened.
There are twenty-seven so far. My favourite is the ferry ghost. You will know her when you meet her.
