The children and dog stepped inside. It was filled with stuff—heavy, upholstered wood furniture, flowers in glass domes, sculptures on shelving, magnifying glasses on tables. Thick Turkish carpets covered the floor. Portraits hung to the high ceiling. The room was so large that Isaac thought it might have been the size of a football pitch.

As they stood there, Colin holding open the scroll, the walls of the room began to shine with that unearthly blue light. Canut whined.

“Like electrification,” Leo said quietly, “but without the wires.”

“Wicked,” Colin whispered.

“Let’s spread out,” said Amelie. “Look for the eternity knot.”

Each of them took a different part of the room. The carpet muffled the sounds of their movements. Isaac stood staring at his corner. It was a dusty, cluttered collection of stuff. Any single object here could be an artifact.

Why, that petrified rock looked strange. And the stuffed raccoon, teeth bared, ugh. And what about the wad of fuzz inside the glass ball that reminded Isaac of dust under the bed? He moved around his corner, taking it all in. The walls still glowed with wavy blue lines.

“Oh!” The gasp came from Amelie. They all turned.

Ame’s arm was glowing, too, but with gold. A gold rope was wrapped around her bare forearm from wrist to elbow. But the rope moved.

Amelie looked horrified, frozen with terror.

Isaac ran to her.

“Stop,” she whispered as he skidded to a halt. A snake wrapped her arm, a snake all of gold, shining. Its tongue, near her wrist, flicked in and out. “I’m afraid it will bite.”

The others were there, too, and it was Colin who stepped forward. “It won’t,” he said. “I promise it won’t bite.” He reached out his hand toward Amelie. The golden snake slithered from her arm and onto Colin’s hand, and then coiled—and froze solid, its head vertical, tongue out.

Amelie staggered back, leaning against an overstuffed chair.

“Look at the pattern of its skin. It’s the eternity knot,” Kat said. “And it’s a bracelet. An actual bracelet.”

“I know. I picked it up and it came alive and crawled up my arm,” Amelie said, sounding strained. “I hate snakes.”

“It’s also a snake, a real one,” Colin said. “It told me that it’s looking for home. And that Isaac could take it there. It says that when you find its home, you’ll find the next bit of answers.”

“Wonderful.” Isaac asked, “Where’s home?”

Colin looked up at Isaac, holding the snake-bracelet out toward him. “The snake told me it’s your next time travel.”

*   *   *

Isaac put the snake-bracelet in his pack. “Will it stay like this?” he asked Colin as they made their way back up the winding stairway to their rooms. “It will not uncoil and slither away, or, or . . . ?”