The Hall of Wizardry, otherwise known as the University of Magic, Wizardry, and Fine Arts (this is what went on the brochures) jostled and bumped as it rode up the rocky road toward Dashtun. It sat in the back of a passengerless, driverless carriage, occupied only by the now half-digested remains of the last group of highwaymen who had been so unfortunate as to try to setup a waylay. Every now and then the remains clacked together ominouslessly, and in the instance of a particularly devastating bump, a disembodied hand even tumbled out one of the windows, presumably fated to become either food for a fox, who was in the bushes nearby and not in a position to be all that picky about its next meal, or possibly a devastatingly traumatic experience for a young child, who was skipping up the path with a bushel of flowers and a perky demeanor that suggested she was rather more expecting to encounter magic candy castles than oozing severed limbs.
The carriage only concerned itself with one thing, and that was getting its cargo to Dashtun. This may or may not have been where the wizard's were expecting to end up. Even the most powerful of magic can only do so much to contravene the universal laws concerning the probability of luggage reaching its intended desination. But it was doubtless a nice spot for a picnic, were any magicians so inclined.
Fortunately, the Hall of Wizardry was built of a magically reinforced monolith of stone, and the jostling did not put the structure through much duress. Certainly, onlookers might not have guessed that the carriage was carrying a stone fortress. This was because the entire Hall of Wizardry had been constructed inside of a magical tote back--one of those handy things wizards carry around with them that never seem to run out of room. The obvious benefit was that this made the hall hard to find and easy to move. Such was doubly the obvious downside.
In fact, since the tote bag could only be opened from the outside, there was not much to be done if it happened to be misplaced. In one of the worse instances it had come into possession of crazy old peddler who, for no apparent reason, decided to bury it. It was rescued only hundreds of years later by an equally crazy Irish terrier with an obsession for digging monstrous holes. (The wizards later enchanted the terrier with immortality and a honed scent for the tote bag, just in case it happened again.)
As the carriage lurched and creaked, an elderly gentleman with a sash tied around his eyes stepped into its path. The carriage reared and lunged, not the least bit displeased to encounter another snack just before making its arrival. At the last moment, however, it froze and fell to the ground. The old man smiled.
He approached the object from behind, carefully making his way to its rear where he levered his walking stick to pop the hatch and remove the hidden tote bag. Its worn, aged appearance fit well the haphazard way with which he hoisted it and then proceeded to drag it through the mud with one hand, pegging his walking stick into the earth with the other.
The carriage looked on forlornly as he left, the last bit of magic seeping out of its timbers. It was not really surprised at what had happened. If it had reached Dashtun, it would have marked the first successful magic parcel delivery in over four millenia