Syniad has a minion!

Meddwyl the Willoat

Boredom, she found, brought gossip. Rich, sticky gossip full of gross exaggerations about minor details.
The dead must have been very bored. They never stopped gossiping.

She heard it first when she was very young; a tiny little lamb in a nice, quaint home. She thought it was natural, hearing voices. Especially since she grew up with it. But when she mentioned it to the nursemaids, they only grew tight-lipped and pale, speaking against it and telling her not to repeat it.
So she grew, silenced.
And so she was silent.

The living weren't too friendly when you spoke of what you liked, she came to realize. But the dead, oh the dead. They were by far the worst to talk to. No, they weren't cruel. Cruelty was something the living created, whisking to motion their selfish needs and desires. The dead didn't have that any more. It was something long lost and forgotten. But something that wasn't forgotten was their love of talking, rumor-spreading, joke-telling, singing. They would talk to all around to hear (which in fact wasn't many indeed. The dead were too busy talking at once to listen to another, and the living were far to preoccupied with-- well, living-- to hear them) and just continue speaking whatever came to mind, which they told in Epics of insane length and detail. They would talk, but wouldn't listen to the one listening, oh no. You just had to either ignore them or learn to have selective hearing.

And so she listened.

So she grew up, the voices whispering to her. She learned that she could not mention it, that it was something that the living frowned upon greatly. And it wasn't long before certain dead people, the ones who wanted to speak to loved ones found her. As they often did in these stories. They left her with messages for her to carry along, to tell their son that they are sorry, to tell their wives that they loved them. It was irritating, and most of the time she didn't do their requests. But some intrigued her.

There was one voice in particular that she took an interest in, a whisper in her ear.

"Tell the mayor I know what he did. I will never forgive him."

The spirits weren't often vengeful. And not quite like this. It sure was interesting!

She found herself watching the said mayor closer.