Don’t dig at it, there’s nothing but madness and death down that path. But if you were going to poke around, I’d start at Claymark Bellfoundry. Of course you never heard of them, they went out of business over five hundred years ago. But once upon a time, they were the supplier of damn near every bell in Doskvol.
Then in the bitter cold of deepest winter, the Spirit Wardens showed up, shut them down, and relocated the bellfoundry into the Bellwether Crematorium. That’s right, the bellfoundry and the crematorium in close quarters, ‘neath the enchanted bells that ring on both sides of the Mirror every time someone in the city dies. Why did they do it? Was there a competition issue? Or was there a problem with the bells? Why did the bells start marking the deaths in the city anyway?
Those aren’t the right questions. I’ve seen those bells. Carillon upon carillon, from giant bells the size of a coach to wee hand-bells in rows. I can say this, for certain; Bellwether has more bells in those towers than will fit in those towers. Now. Leave it alone.
From Dava Mark’s personal correspondence, Elisar 9, 812