The older man present, the one who looks retired, is completing the gestures of Detect Magic; a moment later, seeing much magic about her and little illusion, he kneels. "Some of yours are here, Lady Sevar," he speaks loudly. "Only a few of your best. We can send for more, but it will take time."
Those who fled are largely already gone, for good or ill; it does not take that many seconds to empty yourself from a courtyard, even one transformed into a hellscape. The pregnant woman, who was not running that swiftly, halts at the sound of this and turns about.
The older monk whom Sevar followed here is now also present. There is a profoundly skeptical look about her, but she does not speak.