"Notice here, Meleketh, the dark, straight hair, the bright and angled, brown eyes; the beatific face and asymmetried body of this gently born child.  The marks of Dragonblood.  Notice as well, the fierce loathing he has of me and the determination which sets his face.  This, above all, mark out the descendancy of the Forefather.  Tell me, child, who is your sire?"
        The ten year old was everything that Judeo had said of him.  The boy stood with Judeo behind him, held between the knees of the dark spawned creature by a cold, misty hand placed lightly on his breast.  The cold which emanated from the hand was mind-numbing.  Even if the child had wanted to move, he couldn't.  His will and body had been frozen.
        "Ferdisius Maltivich," the boy whispered, fear shrilling his voice.
        "Ah," Judeo sighed, as if tasting a sweet wine touched by the rays of the triple suns.  It was a savoring sound.  "And your name?"
        "M--m--martelof," the boy stammered, what little spark of bravery in him quickly extinguishing under the cold touch of the monster that helm him.
        "Martelof," echoed Judeo.  Again a rapturous, savoring quality to the voice.  "We have here, Meleketh, the third son of a duke.  A cousin of Starlangof and Darmen.  A few times removed, if I remember correctly.  But the particulars of lineage are not important.  Only the blood."
        "May I have the heart?" Meleketh whispered, eyes transfixed on the naked boy.  "His heart for flavor in a stew.  A stew made of the Lady Camielya and a few choice others.  Dragonblood will add such flavor.  The druidihar would be so grateful."
        "No," Judeo said crisply, a finality in his voice.  "I have other intentions for this one.  I am going to make cousins for you and the druidihar,  Meleketh.  From the children of the noblemen will rise the wraithdin.  Wraiths shaped by my hand.  Those children with the Dragonblood in them will be the strongest.  The leaders of the howling shades.  They will become my spies and assassins, going where even you cannot venture, lackey."
        Meleketh said nothing in reply but watched as the mist from Judeo's hand crept over the body of the boy, wrapping the child in the coldness and darkness.  Wisps rose and infiltrated the nostrils, mouth and ears.  More mist frosted the orbs of the boy's eyes, milking them in a dark haze.
        The child shuddered and balked, the instinct for survival driving the body into an arc.  He cried out, a single, agonized word, "No."  The sound of the word broke and shuddered away.  The boy drew anxious breath and with it more of the black mist.
        "Unmake," breathed Judeo, pulling the mist-wrapped body closer to himself.  "Unravel beneath my touch and be remade."
        The mists broke apart.  Where once the boy had stood there was now  nothingness.  No sign of the child remained and Meleketh cocked a brow, wondering if Judeo had devoured the sweet child for whom the drow lord had been hungry.
        The mists drifted across the throne room, unformed and shifting.  Then they gathered and roiled in the air near the closed doors of the throne room.  A piercing wail broke as the mist took on the twisted shape of the boy, horribly changed by the dark magics of the apostate.
        Meleketh put his hands to his ears as he gritted his teeth against the wail of the wraithdin.  No banshee had ever produced a wail of such intensity and horror.  Meleketh had never before bowed to the powers of the undead and transformed.  This was to be the first exception.
        "Go," commanded Judeo.  "Let like find like.  Dragonblood find Dragonblood.  Bring me Shad Draconian, my wraith child.  Bring me the babe that I may make you a brother."
        Another shriek from the apparition and then it was gone, mists flowing through the cracks of the door and escaping to fulfill the command.
        "And now we shall see to Darmen," Judeo said as he rose from the throne lately occupied by Starlangof Draconian I.  "Then we shall tend to the other children and wait for the wraithdin  to bring me the babe, Shad."

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