"Tell me!" Valerius's cloudy old eyes were bloodshot as he clutched Veylin's arm, like a drowning man grasping at his last lifeline.
"Those insects! They don't even have brains! How did you get them to coordinate... like that? Mind control? No! Even a legendary mage couldn't control five hundred units at once!"
Veylin did not pull away. "Master, please calm down." His voice was as steady as ever. "The answer to that question is difficult to explain in words."
"Come with me."
He led Valerius, practically dragging him along, into the deepest part of the 749 Bureau.
Sarah lay quietly in the little patch of territory reserved for her alone-ever since Veylin had established a good relationship with her, none of the dung beetles had needed cages anymore.
Unlike the restless others of her kind, she remained calm. The instant Veylin appeared, his clear reflection filled her enormous black compound eyes, revealing a trace of almost petlike dependence and filial affection.
Rather than begin explaining immediately, Veylin asked Valerius a seemingly unrelated question.
"Master, in the course of your research, have you ever... paid attention to how deep-sea mammals communicate?"
Valerius froze.
His mind was still racing through the scenes from the battlefield, and Veylin's question out of nowhere left him momentarily short-circuited.
"Deep-sea... mammals?" he repeated instinctively. "You mean dolphins? Or giant whales? Their calls are indeed a form of communication, but they're far too primitive. They merely convey simple information about mating, warnings, or the discovery of food..."
"No, Master. You're only half right."
Veylin shook his head and corrected him.
"The information they convey may be simple, but the way they convey it is far more complex than you imagine. In certain regions of the Endless Sea, different dolphin populations communicate using entirely different sound frequencies."
"Dolphins