There are some wizards, and some wizards' wives, and some children, milling around. There's a smokeless fire with a stewpot simmering on top of it, and an adult wizard is carving a long piece of wood, perhaps into a staff, while a couple of little ones look on. One of the wizards looks the diplomat's way and there begins to be a general whispering among the cave inhabitants and cessation of activity that is not "look nervously at diplomat".