Mycroft watches as Martel translates, unsure whether the language he's speaking matches the written one seen on the documents all over his desk. It's possible, since Mycroft finds he can't place the other man's accent. What a strange coincidence that would be, for a language so like English to have evolved on another world (and for Mycroft to then encounter it).

"History belongs to those in power," he says reflectively. "It seems the goal of the powerful in this City is to have very little history at all. Clever, as long as no one notices."