After Geran’s death, Isaac – as loyal brother to Bryndal and to her husband Geran (even though blood connections were looser there) – visited regularly.
Bryndal did not need anything as such. The children were grown, and heirs to Amber were awash in material goods. She was alone, but Geran had left her that way before. Bryndal had forgiven Geran for his visits to his other families, but Isaac had not – hence the rift between him and Geran.
Isaac, like many of his kin, classified those around him as Family, Pets, Cattle or Enemy, and felt obliged to take offense at Geran diverting attention from Bryndal. Middle Earth was almost healed from Isaac’s display of umbrage.
And now she was leaving. Isaac had many questions, and ways of answering them besides simple asking. But certain truths were evident, and the facts merely details. There was no comfort in the home she shared with Geran at Welksham. In Amber and its environs, she would be Geran’s widow first and foremost. Life was too long for that.
Isaac had an opinion, which he would only state if asked – and if the point was pressed – about Geran’s death. It was a suicide by this point – a successful murderer would have struck again with the same method by now. Isaac’s opinion was that Geran wanted to be a hero, but that was impossible for an Amberite. A hero was defined by overcoming superior forces. What was superior to an Amberite? More Amberites. And who among Amberites were known for antagonizing many of their kin at once? Caine and Brand primarily, though Gregor evidently aspired. The infinite potential of an Amberite had a paradoxical way of narrowing options. What Isaac did not know is whether Geran succumbed to despair or took a cool gamble on reincarnation.
Geran must have left a note. And Bryndal, abandoned for the last time, must have destroyed it. Isaac worked very hard to forgive her. If he had managed to forgive Geran, things might have gone differently.