The bells of the city

Two towers in the north, two to the south, one east, one west. The eastern and western tolling at sunrise and set respectively, the other four tolling, in a tumbling cacophony throughout the city, at the zenith of the day. As the clamour of the chimes intensifies there is a crush of people in the plazza before the tower and the iron bound doors swing open. A figure of unnaturally large aspect strides forth, cloaked in layers of  brightly coloured silks contrasting and pinned between the thick felted festoonery. The size of the hooded being suggests that their ancestry may contain visitors from the plane of Zerasel, which is in keeping with the following actions, as they strew ceremonial salt from within the odd raiment. A blessing upon the crowd, pebbles of variegated colour and size but all baring the faint mineral aroma of yellow mountain salt. Sacred to the old ones of the region but foul to eat it is said to bring good luck within the city. There is another rumour that the pilgrim  leaving the confines of that city without the proper ablutions, their luck turns into the vilest curse. This, it is said, was the root of  Arr-Bshla the boy-king's madness.